


i’m not sentimental (this is a rental)

by SoloChaos



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, Reincarnation, Vague Cannibalism, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:49:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We look at our own bodies as a vessel of a message or an idea to transport as we live life. Hopefully, the message or what is inside can actually outlive the vessel itself."  </p><p>-Josh Dun</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say that before you read this fic, you agree to write me a fic. That's just how it's going to work. 
> 
> Stay tuned for a playlist. I need to sort my shit out first. 
> 
> This is also HISTORICALLY ACCURATE. PLEASE APPRECIATE THE HOURS I PUT INTO THIS. 
> 
> FYI I don't think aromantic people are demonic murderers. I don't, I promise. I also don't think that asexuals look down on allosexuals. 
> 
> JOSH ISN'T HUMAN. PLEASE EXCUSE HIM FOR NOT ACTING HUMAN. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm wildly torn between thinking that this is the best thing I've ever written or thinking that this is absolute shit.

_fuel to take flight (i think you would beat the moon)_

 

They found their first vessel when it was sleeping. Cowardly, but easy.  
  
They flew in, killing the vessel almost instantly.  
  
They easily assimilated into the life of Jephtah ben Dov. They had been watching him for a few months, and it was quite simple for them to pick up where the human had left off. No one suspected Jephtah had long died and his body was being used for an ethereal being to perform their first job on Earth.  
  
They still feel vaguely guilty about killing him.  
  
They met Talia bat Yosef on their sixth day there. By then, they had been able to use Jephtah's name and pronouns comfortably.  
  
He fell in love with her on his eighth day.

 

The subject of marriage came up often during their discussions. Both of them weren't too keen on the idea of marriage, but at the time, it was just as inevitable as death.  
  
Jephtah, however, was too young to marry, and Talia was getting too old to wait for him. He was only sixteen, and Talia was fast approaching fourteen.  
  
"I can wait," Talia insisted. "I'll talk to my father, he'll understand-"  
  
"Talia," Jephtah said softly. "You know he won't. I'm just a kid, and he'd want the best for his firstborn."  
  
Talia stared at him for a moment before throwing her arms around him.  
  
"I'm going to marry you," she whispered fiercely. "We're going to do this. I promise."  
  
  
  
They met almost every night behind an abandoned shed and talked for hours, staring at the stars. The Kesîl constellation remained Talia's favorite to find, although the star Meleket ha-Shamayim was Jephtah's.  
  
They were lying there together, hands loosely clasped as they gazed into the sky.  
  
"I would like to be a star," Talia said suddenly, and Jephtah turned his head to look at her.  
  
"Why?" he asked.  
  
Talia shrugged, not taking her eyes away from the sky. "Because we look up at them and admire them without question. They're pure beauty. We don't challenge that."  
  
"You're beautiful," Jephtah said immediately.  
  
Talia smiled, squeezing his hand. "Thank you, love," she murmured, still looking up at the sky. "And they're free. I want to be free."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Everything," she said simply. "Of this city. Of my family. Of the law. Of the expectations of me. I just... I just want to _be."_  
  
  
  
"You're neglecting your duties, Jephtah."  
  
Jephtah startled when he saw Dabria standing there. Her wings were gleaming, ivory and bold, and Jephtah had a moment of pure _envy_ before forcing it down.  
  
"You're neglecting your duties," she repeated.  
  
Jephtah bowed his head respectfully before saying, "My apologies."  
  
Dabria sighed, walking forward. "Tyre won't protect itself, Jephtah." She touched his forehead. "You know who comes."  
  
Jephtah looked up and nodded. "My apologies."  
  
Dabria sighed. "He asks you to focus on the city, Jephtah."  
  
Jephtah tried to avoid the thoughts of Talia running through his mind. "Of course."  
  
"Good."  
  
And Jephtah was alone.  
  
  
  
  
"Eyal ben Abram wants to marry me," Talia said one evening as they watched the sun sink behind the earth.  
  
Jephtah paused. "And what did you say?"  
  
"I said I'd think about it," she said, scuffing the dirt with her sandal. "I'm not thinking."  
  
Jephtah pretended he didn't let out a sigh of relief at that.  
  
"We're going to get married," she told him, looking up at him, and Jephtah was struck by how _beautiful_ she was. "We will. One day."  
  
"Yes," Jephtah agreed, wanting to kiss her so badly. "Yes. We will."  
  
  
  
"Eyal's persistent," Talia told him after they'd located Kesîl in the sky.  
  
Jephtah nodded slowly.  
  
"He- he kind of scares me," she admitted quietly.  
  
Jephtah looked up. "In what way?"  
  
Talia shrugged. "He's- I don't know, very forward. I don't wish to marry him." She shivered. "I especially don't wish to lie with him."  
  
Jephtah paused. He'd completely forgotten about that part.  
  
"I don't wish to bleed," Talia murmured.  
  
Jephtah slowly wrapped an arm around her. "I- I'm sorry, Talia."  
  
They were both quiet for a moment before Talia suddenly said, "We should run away."  
  
"What?" Jephtah said, incredulous.  
  
"We should run away," Talia repeated, turning to him. "Run away together. Get married in some other city."  
  
"Talia, we- we'd never make it," Jephtah said softly. "The city closest to Tyre is Sidon, and they'd know we went there. They'd find us."  
  
"Who are 'they', Jephtah?" Talia asked. "Why can't we just refuse to go back?"  
  
"Why can't you just refuse to marry for a few more years?" Jephtah said, only realizing how _mean_ that sounded until after it was out of his mouth. "I- I'm sorry."  
  
Talia sighed, resting her head on Jephtah's shoulder. "It's all right."  
  
They stare at the sky.  
  
"I don't wish to marry him," she whispered.  
  
"I know," he murmured back.  
  
  
  
"Your human," Dabria said, waking Jephtah from his sleep, "she is in distress."  
  
"Wha-" Jephtah scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "What are you...?"  
  
"Talia," Dabria said urgently. "She is screaming."  
  
Jephtah sat up and concentrated. He could hear...  
  
"Talia!" he yelped, and tried to fly out before remembering he didn't have wings.  
  
"Run, Jephtah," Dabria said as he scrambled to his feet and off to find her. "And remember the Law."  
  
  
  
  
Talia was lying there, tears streaming down her cheeks as Jephtah pulled Eyal away.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered as he dropped to his knees beside her. "I'm sorry, Jephtah."  
  
"It's not your fault," Jephtah said, shrugging his simlāh off and helping her put it on. "It's not, love. Believe me."  
  
Talia tried to smile, but her lower lip quivered and suddenly she was sobbing into Jephtah's shoulder.  
  
"I can't marry you now," she whimpered into his shoulder. "I'm sorry."  
  
Jephtah felt his throat close.  
  
"I won't tell," he said quickly. "I'll make sure he doesn't tell, and-"  
  
Talia was shaking her head.  
  
"It won't work," she said softly. "You know that."  
  
And yes, Jephtah knew that, but...  
  
"We can still try," he pleaded. "I know I'm too young, but I'll ask my father to ask your father for permission for us to marry, and we can-"  
  
"No, Jephtah," she said gently, squeezing his hand. "I won't let you suffer that shame."  
  
"We have to try," Jephtah insisted. "I don't care about shame. I just care about you."  
  
Talia choked on a sob. "I have to marry him," she said, looking back to where Eyal was trying to staunch his bloodied nose. "It's the only way I can marry now, Jephtah, and I _have_ to marry."  
  
Jephtah felt a tear roll down his cheek as he wrapped Talia into a hug.  
  
"I love you," he whispered.  
  
"I love you too," she whispered back.  
  
  
  
"I shouldn't be here," Talia murmured, playing with her mițpaḥațh nervously.  
  
Jephtah squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry this happened."  
  
Talia looked up at him for a moment, and suddenly her mouth was on his, kissing him deeply. He made a muffled noise of surprise as he fell onto his back. She straddled his hips and continued to kiss him. He didn't kiss back, but he didn't push her off either.  
  
He finally stopped her when he felt her tears hot on his skin.  
  
"Talia," he murmured, pushing her back just slightly, "stop. You're not..."  
  
There were tears running down her cheeks, and she buried her head in his neck.  
  
"I hate being married to him," she gasped out. "I hate it. He's so rough and he doesn't let me eat enough and he's so controlling and I want to divorce him but I _can't."_  
  
"Why not?" Jephtah found himself asking. "There's no law that says _you_ can't."  
  
She smiled wetly at him. "No one will marry me if I divorce him. I have to be married, Jephtah. It's God's Will."  
  
"I'll marry you," Jephtah said quickly.  
  
"I know _you_ would," Talia said. "But your father would never allow you to marry someone soiled."  
  
"You're not soiled," Jephtah whispered, cupping her face with his hands.  
  
She placed her hand over one of his, pressing his hand to her skin.  
  
"I'm impure now, Jephtah," she murmured. "You can't marry me. I'm so sorry."  
  
He stared at her for a moment before gently kissing her cheek.  
  
"I love you," he whispered. "Forever. I promise."  
  
  
  
"You're hurting her," Jephtah said when Eyal ben Abram opened the door.  
  
"Hello to you, too," Eyal said. "Would you like some water?"  
  
"No, I don't want any water," Jephtah snapped. "I want you to divorce her."  
  
"I can't," Eyal said simply. "You should know that law, Jephtah. Or maybe you shouldn't." He narrowed his eyes. "After all, you're not from around here."  
  
Jephtah froze. "I know not what you speak of," he said stiffly. "I've lived here all my life."  
  
"Jephtah ben Dov has," Eyal said slowly. "But you. You haven't."  
  
Jephtah slowly looked up and took a step back when he saw that Eyal's eyes were completely black.  
  
"Demon," he said slowly.  
  
Eyal smiled. "Yes."  
  
"What are you doing here?" Jephtah demanded. "What do you want with me?"  
  
Eyal raised an eyebrow. "How typical," he drawled. "Assuming I'm here for something regarding you."  
  
Jephtah studied him. "You are, though. Aren't you."  
  
Eyal smiled slowly. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I am."  
  
  
  
"We have to leave," Jephtah said as soon as Talia walked into his sight.  
  
Talia blinked. "What?"  
  
"We have to leave," he repeated.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Eyal is dangerous," he said.  
  
She blinked. "I'm aware, Jephtah," she said rather dryly, adjusting her darkly colored mițpaḥațh.  
  
Jephtah sighed. "No, no, I mean..." He clasped his hands together. "He is dangerous in more than an earthly sense."  
  
She frowned at him. "Are you saying that the man I'm married to isn't human?"  
  
Jephtah nodded vehemently. "Yes."  
  
"I have had him inside me," she said without much tone to her voice, and Jephtah choked on air. "He felt human."  
  
Jephtah covered his eyes. "I..."  
  
She sighed. "He seems to be man to me, Jephtah," she said softly. "And I would know. Wouldn't I?"  
  
"I..." Jephtah didn't know what to say. "Be- be careful, Talia."  
  
She smiled a little dryly as she kissed his cheek before leaving him and Kesîl alone together.  
  
  
  
"You're not to see her anymore," Eyal told him.  
  
Jephtah frowned, looking at him challengingly. "And who's to say you can stop me, demon?"  
  
"The elders," Eyal said simply. "I could accuse her with adultery. It shouldn't be hard to prove. You would both be put to death." He smiled, eyes flashing black for a moment. "And while that might not be a problem for you, humans have a knack for staying dead."  
  
Jephtah glared at him. "I will have you know that we have not lain together."  
  
Eyal raised an eyebrow. "That whore hasn't spread for you yet? Shame. She's just so-" He was cut off when Jephtah punched him in the gut.  
  
"Do not speak of her that way," he growled.  
  
Eyal merely laughed. "She's a whore, Jephtah, and she's mine. That's more than you can say. You've been abandoned to guard a city no one cares about. If she knew what you are, she'd be glad that she married me."  
  
"Glad that you raped her?" Jephtah growled, grabbing Eyal's throat.  
  
"Yes," Eyal sneered. "Maybe I should tell her. Maybe she'd be a little more grateful every time I take her. Right now, all she does is cry."  
  
Shrieking, Jephtah smacked Eyal across the face.  
  
"Keep your hands off her," Jephtah hissed. _"Off,_ you disgusting little sprite."  
  
"And let our marriage go childless?" Eyal asked, eyebrows raised. "Doesn't The Lord want us to 'be fruitful and multiply'?"  
  
"Don't you dare impregnate her," Jephtah snarled. "Do not dirty her with your filthy-"  
  
Eyal spat in Jephtah's face.  
  
With a roar, Jephtah summoned what Grace he had and forced it through his fingertips onto Eyal's skin. Eyal shrieked and thrashed in Jephtah's grip on him.  
  
"Do not touch her!" Jephtah commanded. "Do not!"  
  
"I..."  
  
"DO NOT!" Jephtah roared.  
  
"I WON'T!" Eyal screamed back.  
  
Jephtah released him.  
  
"I will hold you to that," he muttered.  
  
  
  
Jephtah didn't see Talia for two months.  
  
  
  
"Hi."  
  
Jephtah looked up in surprise to see Talia standing there, looking down at where he was sitting with back to the shed.  
  
"Talia!" he said in surprise.  
  
She attempted a smile. "Jephtah."  
  
"Sit, sit," he said, making room for her.  
  
She shook her head. "I just want to say goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye?" Jephtah repeated, standing up. "Are you going someplace?"  
  
She shrugged. "Perhaps."  
  
Jephtah frowned, taking a look at her. "Are- are you all right?"  
  
"Mm?" Talia looked up at him with sad, sad eyes, and Jephtah was startled by the pure emptiness in her gaze.  
  
"Talia?" he whispered, cupping her jaw.  
  
She stepped out of his touch, shaking her head.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jephtah," she murmured. "I just... goodbye."  
  
"Where are you going?" he asked, reaching for her hand. She flinched. "Talia?"  
  
"Jephtah," she said softly, reaching out to touch his face. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too," Jephtah said, confused. "Talia, are- are you all right?"  
  
She didn't answer, instead just tracing her fingers over his skin.  
  
"You look afraid," she commented quietly.  
  
"I..." He paused, biting his lip. "I'm afraid that you're going to do something drastic."  
  
She smiled slightly. "I love you," she said, and Jephtah kissed her.  
  
They kissed for what seemed like centuries, yet it felt too soon when Talia finally pulled away.  
  
"I love you," he whispered as she started to walk away.  
  
She waved, eyes looking sad. "Be not afraid, Jephtah," she murmured as she turned her back to him. "Be not afraid."  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry, Jephtah."  
  
He woke to find Dabria crouched beside where he slept, her wings drooping slightly and eyes sad.  
  
"What?" he said, running a hand through his hair.  
  
"I'm sorry," she repeated. Jephtah studied her for a moment before he recalled his last conversation with Talia, and his blood ran cold.  
  
"Is she...?" he whispered.  
  
"I'm sorry," Dabria replied softly. "By her own hand."  
  
Jephtah's eyes widened. "No," he breathed.  
  
"I'm sorry," Dabria was saying, but Jephtah was already gone.  
  
  
  
"You killed her."  
  
Eyal looked up. "I did what?"  
  
"You killed her," he repeated, moving forward.  
  
"I did no such thing. It was all her," Eyal said calmly, stepping over- over the body.  
  
Over Talia's body.  
  
Jephtah swallowed hard, concentrating on Eyal's dark, cold eyes.  
  
"You killed her," he says again.  
  
"I have not touched her," Eyal replied easily, and Jephtah nearly threw up when he realized that Eyal was stepping in Talia's blood. "I kept my word."  
  
"She..." Jephtah took a deep breath. "She never would have done this."  
  
Eyal looked down at Talia, who was sprawled on her back in a pool of her own blood.  
  
"Well, I didn't do it," he commented. He looked up to see Jephtah practically trembling in fury. "Oh, Jephtah," he said, mock-disapproving. "Don't tell me you truly cared for this mortal."  
  
"Shut up," Jephtah muttered. "Shut up before I-"  
  
"She was barely worth it," Eyal told him. "Barely worth the trouble I had to go through to marry her to distract you from your little duties here." He sneered. "She wasn't even a good fuck."  
  
With a strangled roar, Jephtah tackled Eyal onto his back and caught his with a vicious right hook. Eyal cried out in pain when Jephtah dug his nails into Eyal's skin.  
  
"You have no right to even _speak_ of her," he gasped out, digging his knee into Eyal's stomach. "No right, you little _imp."_  
  
"She cried," Eyal said, managing a smirk even as Jephtah wrapped his hands around his throat. "Always crying. No matter how many times I hit her she would not _shut up-"_  
  
"STOP TALKING!" Jephtah shrieked.  
  
Eyal paused, focusing on him.  
  
"Aw," he said dryly. "Poor Jephtah. Are you crying? Poor little baby."  
  
Jephtah startled when he realized that he actually was crying, and wiped his tears away furiously before backhanding Eyal.  
  
"Shut up," he muttered.  
  
"So, Jephtah bekor," Eyal said, smiling up at Jephtah despite the gash on his cheek from Jephtah's fingernails. "What are you going to do with me now?"  
  
Jephtah paused, realizing he really had no idea what to do with Eyal. He couldn't kill him.  
  
Could he?  
  
"You couldn't possibly kill me," Eyal said with a sneer. "You don't have the balls." With that, he jerked his knee up, catching Jephtah in the crotch. Jephtah cried out in pain, crumpling, but managed to snag Eyal's kethōneth to prevent him from escaping.  
  
"You aren't going anywhere, you fiend," he grunted as he threw a punch that connected with the side of Eyal's face. Eyal yelped in pain.  
  
"You'll pay for that," he muttered, and suddenly he was spitting ashes into Jephtah's face. Jephtah roared in pain, summoning his Grace and forcing it through his body, burning Eyal wherever their skin touched.  
  
"Stop, stop, STOP!" Eyal shrieked, clawing at Jephtah weakly. "PLEASE! _PLEASE!"_  
  
Jephtah waited three more seconds before finally stopping, leaving Eyal gasping and shuddering.  
  
Eyal panted for a few more moments before taking a deep breath and beaming up at Jephtah.  
  
"Did you like my impression of the late Talia bat Yosef?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes. "I heard it every night. Every single night."  
  
Jephtah stared at him for a moment before plunging his fist into Eyal's face, shrieking wordlessly.  
  
He kept punching Eyal, even as his arms grew tired and his fist grew bloodied. Eyal spat a mixture of insult and ash between blows, and they only fueled Jephtah's ire, especially when they turned to Talia.  
  
Jephtah finally stopped, his whole body weary. Eyal was coughing blood now, but he still managed to give Jephtah a fanged smirk.  
  
"Even if you kill me," he spat out, "you know I won't be dead." He sneered. "You don't want me dead. You know when I go back to Hell I'll just fuck her until she's bloodied and begging and broken." He hissed, eyes flashing. "You know I won't be dead for lo-"  
  
Eyal was cut off when Jephtah curled his fingers around Eyal's throat and ripped his larynx clean out.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _from midnight skies_

 

Jephtah had only a moment to watch Eyal's eyes widen as blood gushed from his neck. Eyal was making a gasping, gurgling sound as air rushed from his lungs and out of his throat when Jephtah felt himself being whisked down.  
  
Down?  
  
Jephtah's eyes widened, and he heard himself screaming as he felt everything grow hotter and hotter and hotter. He frantically tried to bat the wings that he felt materializing behind him, but he was falling too fast.  
  
He landed gracelessly with a thud. Everything was hot, scorchingly hot, and muffled screams tainted the air.  
  
"Jephtah ben Dov."  
  
A cold, low voice struck the air, and Jephtah looked up to see a fully-formed demon there, staring down at him.  
  
"Have fun."  
  
With a smirk and a flash of bronze eyes, the demon gestured backwards and Jephtah was suddenly being pulled back towards cold, sharp claws.  
  
"Don't touch me!" he shrieked, and fought desperately when he felts hands on his wings. "Don't- don't touch me! DON'T TOUCH ME!"  
  
The claws didn't stop.  
  
Jephtah sobbed when he felt a claw slip its way under one of his wings and pull. He screamed as he felt it pull back, wing moving back along with it. Tears ran down his cheeks as he realized that he felt unbalanced, that he was missing a wing.  
  
"Stop," he gasped out. "Please. _Please."_  
  
The claws started to work their way underneath Jephtah's other wing, and he only fought halfheartedly as he felt one worm its way into the joint. He only whimpered as he felt his other wing being torn from his body.  
  
After that, he doesn't feel anything.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _best left unspoken (i must let go)_  
  
  
  
Tatyana was a gorgeous Russian woman who Jephtah met not long after he had finally managed to pull himself out. He had chosen his vessel randomly, and he was confused, confused by the snow and the language and the pale skinned people and the _cold._  
  
He tried praying to The Lord for guidance, but was met with a block in his mind so strong he nearly vomited.  
  
Instead he swayed in place until he finally passed out, and he woke up in the arms of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  
  
  
  
"Dabria," Jephtah said, staring at his friend with wild eyes. "Wh- where am I?"  
  
She smiled sadly at him. "I'm Diana," she said softly. "You're in the Russian Empire. The year is 5547, or 1787 as the people here know it. Your name is Jermija. She is Tatyana."  
  
"She?" Jeph- Jermija said. "Do- do you mean..."  
  
"Talia," Diana said. "She's reincarnating now, Jermija."  
  
"Does she... does she remember?" Jermija asked, hardly daring to believe any of this.  
  
Diana shook her head. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "She might be able to remember a few things, if something triggers her, but for the most part no, she doesn't remember."  
  
There was a knock on the door to the room where Jermija found himself after he woke up, and Diana disappeared instantly.  
  
"Come in?" he called hesitantly.  
  
Tatyana entered the room holding a steaming red mug that read _Hapj._  
  
"Hello," she murmured, sitting down next to Jermija. "Are you feeling any better?"  
  
"Did I feel badly?" Jermija asked, confused.  
  
She laughed, tugging on her long, blonde hair, and Jermija wanted to cry when he realized how much he missed her laugh.  
  
"Well, I assumed," she told him. "Your skin was quite warm." She paused, blushing when she realized she told him that she touched his skin. "I- I mean-"  
  
Jermija smiled at her. "I understand," he said. "I'm Jermija."  
  
"Tatyana," she said, smiling back at him.  
  
Jermija wanted to live with her forever.  
  
  
  
  
They grew to become close friends quickly. Tatyana was smart and sweet and gentle and funny and beautiful, everything Talia was. Because she _was_ Talia.  
  
He found himself wanting to bring up their last life together to her quite often, but always decided against it.  
  
"I'm engaged," Tatyana told him one day, words flowing as easily as mention of the weather.  
  
Jermija spluttered. "Wha- what?"  
  
"Engaged," Tatyana repeated.  
  
"To who?"  
  
"Someone named Abdulov," she said with a shrug. "I don't know him well."  
  
"And you... I..." He paused, wondering how to proceed. "You're marrying someone you don't know?" he decided to say.  
  
Tatyana gave him a confused look. "Of course," she said slowly. "That is usual, is it not?"  
  
"Well..." Jermija stopped, realizing how little he knew about this land and time. "I... well, no."  
  
Tatyana nodded slowly. "All right, then," she said. "I'm marrying come spring. You're welcome to attend."  
  
"I'm in love with you," Jermija blurted.  
  
Tatyana stared at him for a moment before softly murmuring, "I'm in love with you, too."  
  
  
  
Jermija had no idea where his life was going.  
  
He thought that they were being given a second chance, that he would be able to live a human life with the woman he loved, but instead she was marrying someone else and he would be stuck in love with her until he died and went back to Hell.  
  
Maybe he was still there.  
  
  
  
Tatyana made a gorgeous bride, and her husband, Edik Abdulov, was a handsome and unnervingly familiar man.  
  
"Who are you?" Edik asked him after the wedding as Tatyana went around, greeting everyone else who attended.  
  
"Jermija Durov," Jermija said, nodding respectfully, although wishing nothing more than for Edik to burn from the inside out. Several centuries ago he would have felt ashamed for such thoughts, but by then he had ceased to care.  
  
Edik looked somewhat suspicious, but nodded back.  
  
Later, as Jermija was walking back from the ceremony, he heard someone coming up behind him.  
  
"Hello," Edik said, matching pace with him.  
  
"Hi," Jermija replied cautiously.  
  
They walked in silence for a few moments before Jermija said, "Wouldn't you rather be with your bride?"  
  
Edik shrugged. "I haven't seen you in centuries, Jephtah."  
  
Jermija tripped.  
  
"Whoa, there," Edik- Eyal? said, reaching to help him up.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Jermija yelped, scrambling back.  
  
Edik sighed. "I'm just trying to help my brother out," he said. "You were turned, were you not?"  
  
Jermija pulled his legs up to his chest, eyeing Edik with suspicion.  
  
"Come on," Edik said, doing a cursory glance around before focusing on Jermija. "Phase for me. What do your wings look like? Do you have a tail? How long are your fangs?"  
  
"Why do you want to know?" Jermija bit out.  
  
Edik stopped. "I'm just curious," he said evenly. "You're one of us now, Jermija."  
  
"I'm not one of you!" Jermija snapped, and knew Edik didn't hear him because the other was focused on Jermija's mouth. His teeth.  
  
His fangs.  
  
"They're sharper than mine," Edik commented, nodding approvingly. "Very nice."  
  
Jermija scowled, trying to retract his fangs. He'd never done so before, and as a result, failed.  
  
"Just breathe in while imagining your fangs retracting," Edik instructed.  
  
Jermija glared at him. "And why should I do what you say?" he challenged.  
  
Edik sighed. "I'm just trying to help you."  
  
"You raped, married, and killed the woman I love!" Jermija snapped. "Forgive me if I'm skeptical of your intentions."  
  
"I did _not_ kill her," Edik hissed. "I did not."  
  
"You did," Jermija insisted. "Perhaps not directly, but you raped her, beat her, starved her. You drove her to the need for escape, and she hasn't to even managed to flee completely."  
  
Edik's face contorted into something ugly for just a couple seconds before he smiled.  
  
"Love?" he murmured. "We're demons, Jermija. We don't love."  
  
Jermija swallowed.  
  
"We don't love," Edik said quietly. "We can't love. So rid whatever romanticized fantasies of Talia bat Yosef you have and focus on what makes you a demon, brother."  
  
  
  
They met almost every night behind an abandoned shed, and Edik taught Jermija how to control his new demon abilities.  
  
"Like this?" Jermija asked, closing his eyes and breathing in. He felt a strange sensation, and ran his tongue over his teeth. His fangs had retracted.  
  
"Yes," Edik said somewhat uselessly.  
  
They sat there in silence for a moment, Jermija staring at the stars.  
  
"What animals?"  
  
Jermija furrowed his brows, looking over to Edik. "What do you mean, what animals?"  
  
"What animals can you... never mind," Edik said, shaking his head. "I'll tell you later."  
  
Jermija shrugged, shaking it off.  
  
Edik clears his throat. "I haven't seen your wings yet."  
  
Jermija froze. "Well..."  
  
"Come on," Edik insisted. "What are they like? Are they feathery? Bony? Leathery? What color?"  
  
Jermija shook his head, standing up. "I- I should be getting back."  
  
"Come on," Edik repeated, practically purring. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."  
  
Jermija shook his head again, turning his back on Edik to head back home. "No, I need-"  
  
"You- you were stripped, weren't you?"  
  
Jermija slowly turned back to Edik to see him standing there, looking somewhat disgusted.  
  
"You were," he said. "I..."  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," Jermija said shortly before turning back once more and heading for his home.  
  
  
  
  
Jermija sleeps on his stomach.  
  
It's a habit that he can't quite manage to break. It always hurts to remember why he used to, why he doesn't need to anymore.  
  
  
  
  
"I haven't seen you in a while," Tatyana commented.  
  
"I'm sorry," Jermija apologized. "I thought you would be busy with married life."  
  
Tatyana shrugged. "Edik's not home much," she said. "It's a bit strange. He disappears after dinner at the same time every day."  
  
"I wonder why," Jermija lied.  
  
Tatyana nodded. "So, how are you?" she asked. "Have you found yourself a lady yet?"  
  
"No," Jermija said, so vehemently that Tatyana raised an eyebrow. "I- I mean, no, I haven't found one suitable."  
  
Tatyana nodded understandingly.  
  
"You won't be young forever though, Jermija," she said. "You'd best find a wife soon."  
  
Jermija looked at her for one long moment, imagined Edik's blood staining his hands once again for a split second, and smiled at her.  
  
"You're right," he said softly. "I should."  
  
  
  
"You feel pulls, right?" Edik asked. "Pulling you down?"  
  
Jermija nodded. Yes, he felt them.  
  
"Imagine you're bringing the pulls up," Edik said. "Through your throat." He turned his head and let out a puff of ash.  
  
Jermija closed his eyes and focused on the pulls he always felt inside, urging him back down, and attempted to pull them back up. He intertwined himself in them and tried to push them up, but they were strong. Very strong.  
  
He tried, over and over again, until he felt Edik's hand on his shoulder. "Get up, Jermija," he said softly, and Jermija looked around to see that he had dropped to his knees.  
  
Jermija slowly stood up.  
  
"Don't let it control you," Edik instructed. "You're trying to harness a part of _yourself,_ Jermija. If you cannot control yourself, you cannot hope to control anything."  
  
Jermija nodded, closing his eyes once again.  
  
"It does not control you," Edik murmured.  
  
Jermija once again acknowledged the pulls, but he did not latch himself to them this time. Instead, he imagined them just flowing up slowly, and felt a warmth trickle up his spine and through his throat. Suddenly, he felt a tickling sensation in his throat, and he opened his mouth. He opened his eyes in time to see a small puff of smoke leave his lips.  
  
"Brilliant!" Edik crowed, resting his hand on Jermija's shoulder. "You're a very quick learner, brother."  
  
Jermija once again had to remind himself exactly who that man was. That he was not even a man.  
  
That he disrespected. That he wounded. That he abused.  
  
That he was a monster.  
  
Then Jermija remembered that _he_ was a monster, too.  
  
"Thank you," he murmured.  
  
  
  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Jermija jumped, whirling around to see Diana perched on his windowsill.  
  
"How do you mean?" he asked.  
  
"The one who was responsible for Talia bat Yosef's suicide is now teaching you... tricks," Diana said. "What are you trying to do, Jermija?"  
  
Jermija sneered. "Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
Diana was suddenly directly in front of him, wings spread wide in warning and eyes glinting dangerously.  
  
"Do not disrespect me, Jermija Durov," she hissed. "You know I can hurt you. You know I would not hesitate to do so if ordered. Do not trifle with me, Jermija Durov. You know what I have done. You know what I can do."  
  
They glared at each other for one, long moment before Jermija finally looked away.  
  
"I apologize," he said gruffly.  
  
Diana continued to glare at him for a bit longer before sighing, taking a step back, and vanishing.  
  
  
  
"You and Edik seem close," Tatyana noted.  
  
Jermija shrugged. "I suppose."  
  
Tatyana nodded. "He talks about you sometimes," she said.  
  
He paused. "What does he say?"  
  
"Not much," Tatyana said. "Most of it doesn't make sense. What do you suppose, 'Jermija got a full flame today' means?"  
  
Jermija tried took confused. "I have no idea."  
  
Tatyana nodded. "You seem bored, Jermija."  
  
"I'm not bored," Jermija said quickly.  
  
"You are," Tatyana said, tugging at the tips of her hair. "With me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you certain? You don't sound certain."  
  
"I'm certain."  
  
"Tell me the truth, Jermija. Are you-"  
  
"I AM NOT BORED!"  
  
Tatyana reeled back as though he had slapped her.  
  
Jermija sighed. "I... sorry," he said gruffly.  
  
"Are you?" she asked quietly.  
  
He paused. "...no," he realized aloud. No, he was not sorry.  
  
"I thought you were in love with me," Tatyana said softly. "Why aren't you sorry?"  
  
Jermija looked up. "What are you doing, Tatyana?" he asked. "Why did you marry him?"  
  
She looked at him in confusion. "What does that have to do with this?"  
  
"Why did you marry him if you're in love with me!?" Jermija shouted.  
  
Tatyana furrowed her eyebrows. "Marriage has nothing to do with love, Jermija," she said slowly. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Jermija sighed, standing up. "Forget about it."  
  
Tatyana watched him. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Somewhere not here," he said shortly. "Leave me alone." He began to walk away.  
  
"I thought you were in love with me!"  
  
Jermija paused, slowly turning back to face Tatyana.  
  
"I thought I was, too," he said evenly before walking away.  
  
  
  
  
"What did you say to her?" Edik asked after Jermija successfully melted the snow around them with a single breath of fire.  
  
"What are you talking about?" he replied, not looking up.  
  
"She's been quite a bitch as of late," Edik said casually, and Jermija fought down the part of him that wanted to tear out Edik's throat at the "bitch". He doesn't love her. Not anymore. "I assume you said something."  
  
"Ah," Jermija said. "I told her that I don't love her."  
  
Edik whistled. "That'll do it. She really loves you, Jermija. It's pathetic, really."  
  
Something in Jermija's stomach flipped. Indigestion? Mortal bodies were so volatile. "Ah," he said indifferently.  
  
"She accused me of adultery, actually," Edik told him. "That I have been having an affair with you."  
  
Jermija coughed up some ash. _"What?"_  
  
Edik shrugged, looking amused. "Accused me of 'stealing your heart' or something," he said. "Said that was why we haven't consummated yet. That I'm too preoccupied with you."  
  
"You two haven't..."  
  
Edik shook his head. "I gave you my word," he said.  
  
Jermija raised an eyebrow, impressed. "I don't mind," he said, ignoring everything screaming against what he was about to say. "You can fuck her. I don't care."  
  
Edik looked at him, appearing much like a cat who had just caught a particularly quick mouse.  
  
"You give me your word?" he asked.  
  
Jermija nods. "You have my word."  
  
  
  
Jermija didn't hear from Edik or Tatyana for several weeks.  
  
  
  
"You have to help me."  
  
Jermija opened his eyes to see Tatyana kneeling at the side of his bed.  
  
"What?" he asked blearily.  
  
"Help me," she whispered. "Hide me. Please. He's- he's hurting me, and no one will help me. No one will believe me."  
  
"What do you want me to do, Tatyana?" Jermija said tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
"Hide me," she answered immediately. "Smuggle me out. Please. Get me away from him."  
  
"What's he doing to you?"  
  
"He- he hits me," she murmured. "He starves me. He... he rapes me."  
  
"He's your husband, Tatyana," Jermija said, yawning. "He's entitled to those things."  
  
"He makes me _bleed,"_ she whispered. "Jermija, _please._ I don't have _anyone_ but you."  
  
"You don't have me," he said coldly. "Leave me alone, Tatyana. Go back to your husband. Let him beat you. Let him rape you. It is where you belong."  
  
  
  
Diana appeared in the same spot Tatyana was the moment she left.  
  
"That was cruel," she said quietly.  
  
He shrugged. "I don't care."  
  
"Truly?" she challenged.  
  
"Truly."  
  
"I think," she said slowly, "I think that you are lying." When he opened his mouth to protest, she quickly said, "But you do not know you are lying. You are lying to yourself. You have locked up the part of you that would be screaming in pain, for you have hurt the one you promised you would love forever."  
  
"I am a demon, Diana," he said sharply. "I cannot love."  
  
"Demons have only lust," Diana said. "Tell me, Jermija Durov, when have you last felt lustful?"  
  
Jermija paused. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely certain of what lust _was._  
  
"I thought as much," she said, touching his forehead briefly. "You are not who you were before, but you are not entirely a demon either. Do not forget this."  
  
"I will not," Jermija promised. He exhaled, taking a moment to reevaluate everything, and he wanted to hurt himself when he realized what he had done. "I- I have to go apologize."  
  
Diana looked at him sadly. "I'm afraid it is too late for that, Jermija."  
  
Jermija blinked. "What? What do you-"  
  
But he was talking to thin air.  
  
  
  
  
"Tatyana?"  
  
Jermija dashed to where she was collapsed on the floor, knife in her hand and blood spilling from her throat.  
  
"Tatyana, please," he gasped, sinking to his knees and carefully checking her for signs of life.  
  
There were none.  
  
Pressing the palm of her hand to his chest, Jermija felt his body began to shake with sobs.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."  
  
He hears footsteps behind him, but he doesn't look back.  
  
"Jermija Durov."  
  
"Edik Abdulov," Jermija replied, carefully placing Tatyana's hand down on her chest before slowly standing up and turning around.  
  
"Have you realized that you love her?" Edik asked, eyes wide in a semblance of innocence.  
  
"Realized?" Jermija repeated. "Are you saying that you knew I can love?"  
  
"Of course," Edik said easily. "Everyone knows your kind can never truly become demonic. You've managed quite well, but you? You are know true demon. You know that." He paused, cocking his head. "But you didn't know that, did you?"  
  
Jermija lunged.  
  
"YOU KILLED HER!" he screams as he tackled Edik to the ground.  
  
"I did no such thing," Edik said calmly. "I merely sharpened the blade."  
  
Jermija punched him in the face.  
  
"I'm getting a remarkable sense of déjà vu," Edik commented, and Jermija punched him again.  
  
"Shut up!" he growled. "Shut up shut up shut _up_ you manipulative _bastard!"_  
  
"Are you going to kill me, Jermija?" Edik asked, a gash from one of Jermija's blows oozing blood. "You know how well that worked last time."  
  
"I'm not listening to you," Jermija grunted. "You're a manipulative little _fiend,_ and I will travel through the depths of Hell if I must if only to _end_ you."  
  
"Good luck," Edik laughed. "We know how you did in Hell, Jermija."  
  
Jermija snarled, breathing a row of flame into Edik's face. Edik coughed, batting it away before smiling.  
  
"I've taught you well," he said. "You're a very fast learner, Jermija."  
  
"I'm aware," he muttered as he leaned back, fumbling for the knife clutched in Tatyana's left hand.  
  
Edik looked up to see what he was doing. "You _are_ going to kill me, then," he said, sounding mildly impressed. "I would not have foreseen that. You know, I thought that perhaps you were a bit in love with _me."_  
  
Jermija pressed the knife to Edik's throat. "Shut up," he grunted. "Shut up." He can't tell if he's pressed hard enough for blood to spill, or it's just Tatyana's blood.  
  
"Are you really going to do this, Jermija?" Edik asked. "Don't you know what will happen? That this will all happen-"  
  
Jermija slit Edik's throat, the word _again_ dying on his lips.  
  
  
  
  
 _wandering right through_  
  
  
Sweden, 1802. Thea hung herself. Josef snapped Emil's neck, tears running down his cheeks.  
  
  
  
Wales, 1826. Tegan slit her throat. Jeston strangled Elijah while the other spat ash at him.  
  
  
  
Ottoman Empire, 1841. Tuana shot herself. Isa shot Eren, then put a bullet through his own head.  
  
  
  
England, 1865. Taylor sliced her arms open. James stabbed Evan in the chest, Evan mocking until his last breath.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _under a trillion stars (i blame it on my mind)_  
  
  
"What are you doing, Jonathan?"  
  
Jonathan Durkin lifted his head up from his pillow and blinked wearily. Danielle was perched on the windowsill, staring at him.  
  
"What?" he asked sleepily.  
  
"You're just going through motions," she said. "What are you doing? You're not even trying to change anything."  
  
"But there it is," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I can't change anything. It's pointless."  
  
"Why not?" Danielle asked. "Why can't you?"  
  
Jonathan stares at her. "What are you talking about?" he said. "This is my punishment, is it not? To be unable to save her from herself."  
  
"This is a sentence, Jonathan," she said. "Not a punishment."  
  
"I fail to see the difference," he told her dryly.  
  
"You have not been condemned to experience the same events for an eternity, if that is what you believe," Danielle said, hopping off the windowsill to kneel by his bedside. "You have been condemned to experience the same events until you can manage to stop them."  
  
"And how do I do that?" Jonathan challenged her.  
  
Danielle shrugged. "That is for you to figure out, Jonathan Durkin," she said as she disappeared, leaving Jonathan alone with his thoughts.  
  
  
  
"Jon!" Tara chirped happily as he made his way into the inn, pausing her practice.  
  
"Hello," he said, sitting down on the bench next to her. "Don't stop."  
  
Tara smiled, resuming her warm-up on the piano. Jonathan watched her face as she played, slightly urgent yet blissful.  
  
"That was really good," Jonathan told her as she let the last notes fade out. "Who's is it?"  
  
"Mine," she said, smiling shyly at him, and suddenly, Jonathan could remember exactly why he fell in love with her.  
  
He couldn't believe he ever tried to let her go.  
  
"It's amazing," he said a bit belatedly.  
  
Tara blushed. "Really?"  
  
"Really," Jonathan assured her. He paused, contemplating his next actions. "May I- um, may I kiss you?"  
  
Tara's face went completely red. "I..."  
  
"Please?" he tried. "Chastely, I promise."  
  
"I... I'm being courted, Jonathan," she said, looking genuinely contrite. "I'm sorry."  
  
Jonathan sat back. He was too late for this life, then.  
  
Or was he?  
  
"Who's courting you?" he asked.  
  
Tara looked down. "Earl Abbott," she murmured.  
  
 _Earl Abbott. Earl Abbott. Earl Abbott._  
  
Jonathan nodded, sliding off of the bench.  
  
"Where are you going?" Tara asked, looking mildly concerned.  
  
"Oh, somewhere," he said distractedly.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"Mm?" He looked down at her. Tara was looking up at him, fingers poised over the keys. "Oh, I'm fine. Don't let me stop your practice."  
  
"All right," she said slowly as Jonathan strolled out of the inn.  
  
  
  
Jonathan found Earl Abbott fairly easily.  
  
He was a slightly stout man in his early thirties who worked as a manager of the inn Tara worked in, a fact that Jonathan had managed to miss when Tara first told him her suitor's name.  
  
"Earl Abbott," Jonathan drawled, stepping out of the shadows the moment Earl locked his front door.  
  
Earl jumped. "Goodness!"  
  
"If I kill you now," Jonathan said slowly, walking forward, "You won't be able to marry her. You won't be able to abuse her. You won't be able to drive her to the point of suicide."  
  
"Who- who are you?" Earl asked, looking anxious as he took a step back. "What are you doing in my home?"  
  
"Nice try," Jonathan said, chuckling darkly. "I know who you are, Earl Abbott."  
  
"Who _are_ you?" Earl queried, looking scared. "Please leave my home."  
  
"No," Jonathan said. "And you know exactly who I am, Earl Abbott."  
  
"I- I'm sorry, I don't know you," Earl stammered. "Please, just leave-"  
  
Jonathan reached out and grabbed Earl's dark brown coat before pushing him against the wall.  
  
"Don't you dare lie to me, Earl Abbott," he growled. "You know exactly who I am. And exactly what I'm going to do with you."  
  
Earl's eyes were filling with tears. "P-please, I don't- I don't know you, I swear. I don't know who you think I am. I'm just Earl Abbott, I manage the Unas Inn on 21st Street-"  
  
"Shut up," Jonathan snapped. "You're Evan Applegate. Eren Aytaç. Elijah Adams. Emil Andersson. Edik Abdulov. Eyal ben Abram."  
  
Earl was shaking head. "I don't know what you speak of. Please believe me. Please don't hurt me."  
  
"Where did your backbone go, Earl?" Jonathan taunted. "Coward." He blew a stream of flame right above Earl's head, Earl cowering and yelping in surprise. "Show yourself," he said as he let his eyes darken and fangs slide down. "Come on. I dare you." He leaned, baring his teeth. _"I dare you."_  
  
Earl whimpered. "Who- who are you? Please don't hurt me. Please."  
  
Jonathan hesitated. _He's manipulating you. Like he always has. Don't fall for it. Not again,_ he reminded himself, and tightened his grip on Earl's shirt.  
  
"Nice try," he hissed. "Goodbye, Earl Abbott." He leaned in and tore Earl's throat out with his teeth.  
  
  
  
Jonathan woke to a knocking on his door.  
  
"It's open!" he called, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  
  
Tara opened the door, and Jonathan was wide awake immediately when he noticed she had been crying.  
  
"What happened?" he asked.  
  
"Earl is dead," she said, voice cracking. "He- he was murdered."  
  
"Oh, no," Jonathan said, sounding as worried as possible. "What happened?"  
  
"His throat was r-ripped out," she stuttered, obviously holding back tears. "It- oh, it's just awful, Jon."  
  
"Oh, love," he murmured, holding his arms out. "Come here."  
  
Tara only hesitated a moment before running and jumping onto his bed and into his arms, proprieties be damned.  
  
"It's my fault," she whimpered, burying her head into the crook of Josh's neck. "It's all my fault."  
  
"What are you talking about?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her shaking frame.  
  
"I- I can't even say it," she mumbled into his shoulder.  
  
"It's all right, love," Jonathan assured her. "I won't judge you. I'll never judge you."  
  
She sighed. He could feel her tears seeping through his thin nightshirt. "I- I wanted him dead," she whispered. "I- I _prayed."_  
  
"Why?" he murmured back.  
  
"I didn't want to marry him," she told him quietly. "And I knew that my parents would've insisted. But- but I'm not ready. I know- I know it was a horrible thing to wish for, but..." She dissolved into sobs.  
  
"No, no, shh," he murmured, cradling her gently. "It's not your fault, love, you didn't do this. It's not your fault."  
  
"It's all my fault," she insisted thickly. "I'm a horrible person."  
  
"No, no, no," Jonathan said quickly. "No, you are the kindest, gentlest, sweetest person that I know, all right? Unless you were the one who went and murdered Earl, this was not your fault." He paused. "You didn't, did you?"  
  
She laughed, sounding a bit surprised, like it was startled out of her. "No, Jon, I didn't."  
  
"All right, then," he said. "You are _not_ a horrible person. This was _not_ your fault. Do _not_ blame yourself."  
  
"Jon..." Tara said quietly, and suddenly she was kissing him.  
  
Jonathan pulled back. "Wha- what are you doing?"  
  
"Kissing you," she replied, trying to kiss him again.  
  
"No, no," Jonathan said, pushing her away slightly. "Tara..."  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked. "You wanted to kiss me before."  
  
"Chastely," Jonathan said, and became very much aware of how their bodies were situated. "You're on my bed, both of us in our nightclothes. This... this isn't very chaste, Tara."  
  
Tara exhaled, running her fingers through her hair. "Jon, come on," she said. "Don't all men want a lady in their bed?"  
  
"I... Well," Jonathan said, "not in the way you mean." He sighed. "Tara, your suitor was just murdered. I'm not going to lie with you now."  
  
Tara frowned. "What, you don't want me now?"  
  
"No, I- I don't want to lie with you," he said. "I want _you,_ not to lie with you."  
  
Tara breathed out, collapsing next to Jonathan on his bed. "All right," she murmured. Jonathan lay next to her, being careful to only let their fingers touch.  
  
After a couple moments, Tara said, "If I had known, I would have insisted that you court me, rather than let my parents find someone for me."  
  
"Known what?" Jonathan asked, looking over at her. She wasn't looking back.  
  
"Known that you weren't, um," she bit her lip, "queer."  
  
Jonathan jerked back. _"What?"_  
  
"Which would have been fine! If you were!" Tara exclaimed quickly. "I would have supported you either way."  
  
"Why... why did you think I was queer?" Jonathan asked, entirely awake now.  
  
Tara shrugged the best she could lying down. "You don't have that much of an interest in ladies," she said. "The only person other than myself I've seen you interact with is Emmett, and he obviously has more than friendly intentions regarding you."  
  
"He- he does?" Jonathan questioned, stopping to rethink all of his interactions with Emmett the butcher.  
  
Tara nodded. "Oh, yes," she said.  
  
Jonathan shook his head to clear it. "Well, I'm not queer, Tara," he said, hesitantly leaning in for a kiss.  
  
She pressed their lips together, and they shared a brief, gentle kiss.  
  
"Not queer," he murmured.  
  
"I'll take your word for it," she replied with a smile.  
  
  
  
  
"You've made a mistake."  
  
Jonathan groaned as he scrubbed a hand over his face. How often was he going to be woken up?  
  
"What?" he asked, opening his eyes to see Danielle perched on his writing desk in the corner.  
  
"You've made a mistake," she repeated, her gaze flickering down to the way Tara is curled up around his body, dark hair splayed over his pillow.  
  
"I haven't lain with her," he began to protest, but she shook her head, cutting him off.  
  
"I know you haven't. That isn't what I speak of," she said. "I speak of what led her to come to your home."  
  
"You mean... Earl?" he asked.  
  
Danielle gave him an indecipherable look before vanishing.  
  
Jonathan groaned, flopping back down onto his bed. Why did she have to be so cryptic?  
  
  
  
  
"Jonathan!" Emmett said cheerfully as Jonathan entered the shop.  
  
"Hello, Emmett," Jonathan said a bit warily. "How are you?"  
  
"Great!" Emmett said, gesticulating enthusiastically with his butcher's knife. Jonathan automatically took a step back. "And you?"  
  
"Not too bad." _As long as you don't accidentally impale me with a cleaver._ "I was wondering if I could get a couple beef steaks?"  
  
"Sure thing!" Emmett said, moving back to go grab one of the pieces of meat hanging on the wall.  
  
Jonathan watched as Emmett sliced the meat quickly but cleanly. He was obviously a practiced man, and Jonathan wasn't exactly thrilled to imagine what Emmett could do to a man if he lost whatever reason he had to end all of his sentences with an exclamation point.  
  
"Here you are!"  
  
Jonathan blinked and realized that Emmett was holding out a package of the meat.  
  
"Thank you," he said, pulling out his money to pay. "How much?"  
  
"Oh, on the house for you!" Emmett said cheerfully.  
  
"What? No, no, let me pay-"  
  
"It's quite all right!" Emmett told him. "Now be off with you, Jonathan, and go enjoy your day!"  
  
Mildly unnerved, Jonathan exited the shop, blatant confusion probably gracing his features.  
  
  
  
  
Jonathan found himself staring in the mirror a bit longer than necessary whenever he went to wash up.  
  
He wished he didn't.  
  
He wished he had them back.  
  
  
  
  
"Are you sure you should be spending so much time with me?" Jonathan asked one day.  
  
Tara shrugged, adjusting her hat. "Why not?"  
  
"Well," Jonathan said carefully, "the man who everyone expected you to marry just died, and now you're spending all your time with another man."  
  
"So?" Tara asked.  
  
"Well, there are either two explanations," Jonathan said. "Either you're, erm, quick, or you had something to do with the- um, with the murder."  
  
Tara blinked at him. "...oh."  
  
"I- I mean no offense," Jonathan said hesitantly. _"I_ know that neither are true, but if you're concerned with public appearance, then-"  
  
Tara cut him off with a kiss.  
  
"Damn public appearance," she whispered, and Jonathan couldn't help but laugh.  
  
  
  
  
Jonathan ran into Emmett on his way home after a walk with Tara.  
  
Literally ran into him.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Jonathan said, stopping to help Emmett up.  
  
"No problem!" Emmett told him brightly, brushing the dirt off his trousers. "How are you today?"  
  
"Well," Jonathan answered. "You?"  
  
"I'm wonderful!" Emmett said. "Say, Jonathan, I'm having a dinner party tomorrow night. It would be excellent if you could attend!"  
  
"Well..." Jonathan said hesitantly.  
  
"You can bring a guest, if you'd like!" Emmett offered.  
  
"...all right," Jonathan said. It would probably do Tara good to be around other people, since she hadn't interacted with anyone other than Jonathan after Earl's death.  
  
"Brilliant!" Emmett chirped. "Well, I must be off, but I'll see you around!" He practically skipped away, waving goodbye along the way.  
  
Jonathan waved back halfheartedly, utterly bewildered.  
  
  
  
  
"I don't know about this, Jon," Tara said hesitantly as he knocked on Emmett's front door.  
  
"It'll be fun," Jonathan told her.  
  
"I don't know," Tara said again. "I don't know if I'll be welcome."  
  
"Why wouldn't you be?" Jonathan asked, but the door opened before Tara could answer.  
  
"Jonathan!" Emmett said cheerfully. "And Tara! Come in, come in!" He stepped back to let them both inside.  
  
Time went by quickly, Jonathan found. He didn't know the other people there well, but he'd recognized them from around the town. Dinner was delicious, and Jonathan found himself enjoying his time much more than he thought he would.  
  
He was engaged in a good-natured debate with another man he had just met when he realized that Tara had excused herself to use the restroom nearly forty-five minutes ago.  
  
"Excuse me," he said, standing up. "I'm just going to check on my- my friend."  
  
The man nodded, turning to someone else.  
  
Jonathan fought down any anxiety bubbling up. He was fine. Fantastic, even. He'd managed to kill Earl before Tara had the need to kill herself. They were going to be great. He'd be able to live with her, love her for the rest of this life.  
  
Nothing was going to go wrong.  
  
"Tara?" Jonathan called, knocking on the door. There was no answer. "Tara?"  
  
He waited a moment was about to knock again when he heard a thump.  
  
"Tara? Are you all right?" He tried to open the door. "Tara?"  
  
Jonathan heard some scuffling on the other side, and the door finally opened.  
  
"Emmett?" he said, confused. "Where- where's Tara?"  
  
He could have sworn that Emmett's eyes were darker than normal before he looked up, but he brushed that off to lighting.  
  
"I don't know," Emmett said, and his voice sounded... different. "Sorry."  
  
"She said she was going to use the restroom forty-five minutes ago," Jonathan said. "I don't know where else she would've..." He trailed off when he realized he could smell blood.  
  
"What's wrong?" Emmett asked, voice still off, and Jonathan regarded him for the second time in greater depth. Emmett's clothes were disheveled and hair mussed, and Jonathan could see a couple scratch marks on his arm.  
  
And it dawned on him.  
  
"What did you do?" Jonathan demanded lowly. "Where is she?"  
  
"I don't know what..." Emmett began, but stopped when he realized that Jonathan wasn't buying it.  
  
"Where _is_ she?" Jonathan repeated, slowly stepping forward and forcing Emmett further back.  
  
"Look, Jonathan-"  
  
"WHERE IS SHE?!"  
  
Emmett stopped. "Guess," he said softly.  
  
Jonathan studied him for a moment. "Eyal," he said quietly.  
  
Emmett smiled slowly. "Yes."  
  
"Did- did you just take this vessel?" Jonathan asked, already knowing the answer. "Or did I..."  
  
"No," Emmett said. "No, I was always in this vessel. You killed the wrong man, Jonathan. Earl Abbott was simply a meek little manager of an inn. You took an innocent life, and the only reason you weren't dragged back down to Hell is that you're already damned."  
  
Hissing, Jonathan let his eyes go black as he grabbed Emmett's shirt and threw him backwards.  
  
"Don't take out all your self-hatred out on me, Jonathan," Emmett said as he blinked up at Jonathan, who was advancing on him. "Save some of that for yourself."  
  
"Where is she?" Jonathan demanded, ignoring him.  
  
"Have you gone blind in your old age?" Emmett asked, sneering. "She's right there."  
  
Jonathan looked over to see that Tara was, in fact, right there. She was collapsed on the tile floor, looking lifeless.  
  
"Did- did you kill her?" he gasped.  
  
Emmett shook his head. "No, sir," he said.  
  
"What did you do to her?" Jonathan asked, noticing that her dress had been ripped. "What did you do?"  
  
"Guess," Emmett said quietly.  
  
Jonathan punched him in the throat.  
  
He ignored Emmett's soft cries of pain as he continued to beat him brutally. He punched, kicked, slapped, and only stopped when he heard Tara softly murmur, "Jon?"  
  
Jonathan immediately paused, looking up to see Tara sitting up, looking frightened.  
  
"Wha- what's going on? What are you doing?" she asked, looking dazed.  
  
"Tara," he whispered. "Tara. How- how do you feel?"  
  
"I..." She looked down at Emmett, who was lying underneath Jonathan and covered in his own blood. "He- he hurt me."  
  
"I know," Jonathan said softly. "I'm so sorry, Tara."  
  
"He hurt me," she repeated, pulling her legs up to her chest.  
  
"I know," Jonathan said again, and punched Emmett again.  
  
"Stop," Tara said, holding her hand out. "I... stop. Please."  
  
Jonathan paused.  
  
"Just- just get me out of here," Tara murmured. "Don't kill him. Please."  
  
"All right," Jonathan said quietly, climbing off of Emmett. "Come on, Tara," he said, helping her stand. "Let's go get our coats, and we'll leave, all right?"  
  
"All right," she mumbled, clinging to his arm.  
  
Jonathan wanted to cry. This was all _wrong._  
  
  
  
  
"I'm not telling _anyone,_ Jon," Tara said firmly. "No one."  
  
"Tara, please," Jonathan pleaded. "That man deserves punishment."  
  
"You punished him with your fists," Tara murmured.  
  
"That's not enough."  
  
"What are you expecting, then!?" Tara suddenly shouted. "I'm just a woman, Jonathan, an unmarried woman! No judge is going to severely punish a man for taking a woman who is nearing the end of her years prime for marriage! It's just going to be shame, Jon, with barely a sentence for my attacker. I don't- I don't want..."  
  
"Oh, love," Jonathan whispered, letting her sob into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"S'not your fault."  
  
"I know," Jonathan said quietly. "But I'm still sorry."  
  
  
  
Jonathan was terrified.  
  
Tara wasn't well, he could see that easily. She was barely responsive, barely awake, barely alive.  
  
He missed her.  
  
  
  
"Tara," Jonathan said carefully one day, "do you think that maybe we could... go out? Maybe to a play or for a walk?"  
  
Tara shook her head. "No. I'm fine."  
  
"Tara," Jonathan said, sitting down next to her. "You- you're barely here. You're so sad. I... What can I do to make you happy?"  
  
Tara shrugged. "I'm fine," she said quietly.  
  
"You're not fine."  
  
"I'm _fine."_  
  
"You're not."  
  
"I am."  
  
"You're not."  
  
"I _am."_  
  
"YOU'RE NOT!"  
  
They both jumped at Jonathan's shout.  
  
"I- sorry," he murmured. "But- but dammit, Tara, you're not fine. I just want you to be happy."  
  
She sighed, looking up at him.  
  
"I can't," she said softly, gray eyes melancholy. "I can't be happy. I'm sorry."  
  
  
  
  
"Tara," Jonathan said slowly. "Tara, I need you to step away from the ledge. Please."  
  
"You're a monster," she whispered, and Jonathan felt her words hit him as physical blows. "You- you killed Earl. You would've killed Emmett, if I hadn't stopped you."  
  
"Tara, please, you have to listen to me," Jonathan begged. "I thought he was someone else. I'm _sorry."_  
  
"How do you sleep at night?" Tara asked quietly. "Knowing you've murdered an innocent man."  
  
"You wanted him dead too," Jonathan bit out, and immediately regretted it when he saw Tara's facial expression flutter shut. "Tara, I'm sorry, I didn't-"  
  
"It's all right," Tara said quietly, turning back to the rushing water beneath. "You're right. I wanted him dead. I'm horrible."  
  
"You're not horrible."  
  
"I'm horrible," Tara repeated. "I'm awful. And Jon? I'm in love with you." She didn't look back. "But I don't forgive you."  
  
"Tara, wait, no, please-" Jonathan could feel his heart in his throat as he began to dash to where Tara was standing, but it was too late.  
  
She was gone.  
  
  
  
  
Jonathan barely stopped himself from vaulting over the side of the bridge after her.  
  
Instead, he stayed on the ledge, staring at the black, rushing water.  
  
He didn't know how long he stayed there without thinking, without feeling.  
  
  
  
  
"You killed her."  
  
Emmett sighed, setting his cleaver down. "Not this again, Jonathan."  
  
"You killed her," Jonathan said again, stepping forward. "You killed her."  
  
"You know I didn't, Jon," Emmett said calmly. "Now. I need you to put your gun down."  
  
Jonathan blinked, realizing that he'd pulled out the gun he had brought and was brandishing it like a madman.  
  
"No," he said, but he did stop waving it around.  
  
"What do you want, Jonathan?" Emmett asked. "To kill me again? You know this will all just happen again. And again. And again."  
  
Jonathan raised the gun. "And what's wrong with a fresh start?" he asked, and pulled the trigger.  
  
  
  
  
 _lost in time_  
  
  
  
Netherlands, 1914. Tess drowned herself. Julian threw Edik out a building onto concrete.  
  
  
  
  
Korea, 1931. Tae Jung stabbed herself through the heart. Jae-Hwa beat Eisaku until the other man's heart stopped beating.  
  
  
  
Chile, 1947. Thiare hung herself from a tree branch. Joaquin shot Esteban in the throat.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _i'll be your disaster (everybody run)_  
  
  
  
Jackson was exhausted.  
  
"Why the long face, pal?"  
  
He looked up to see Edwin standing next to where he was sitting. He considered getting upset, but decided against it. He was too tired to do much of anything.  
  
"May I sit?" Edwin asked pleasantly. Jackson didn't agree, but he didn't say no, so Edwin sat down.  
  
They were both quiet for a bit before Edwin said, "Fresh starts aren't really all what they're hyped up to be, huh?"  
  
Jackson grunted, running fingers through his own vermillion colored hair.  
  
"Where's- you know, Taryn?" Edwin asked. "Taryn, right?"  
  
"Taryn," Jackson confirmed. "I don't know where she is."  
  
Edwin gave him a confused look. "You don't know?" he questioned. "Aren't you in love with her?"  
  
"Yes," Jackson said, "but she doesn't want to see me right now."  
  
Edwin nodded slowly. "Women, huh?" He stretched, yawning loudly and letting his knee bump against Jackson's.  
  
Jackson nodded, slightly confused.  
  
"So, mate," Edwin said, "you wanna get something to eat?"  
  
  
  
Jackson didn't know how, but somehow he and Edwin became what could be classified as friends.  
  
They went out to eat together, watched films, went to football games. Jackson found himself enjoying the other man's company, although he had no idea why.  
  
"I was thinking," Edwin said as soon as Jackson closed the front door, "that maybe we could go see this new film called The Set after lunch? It's about two guys-"  
  
"What are we doing, Edwin?" Jackson interrupted.  
  
Edwin paused, cocking his head. "What do you mean?"  
  
"What are we-" Jackson gestured back and forth between himself and Edwin, "doing? Going to the cinema, to football matches, to dinner together? What are we doing?"  
  
Edwin sighed. "You haven't figured it out yet?" At Jackson's blank expression, he said, "I have a very unelaborate plan to get into your pants, Jackie."  
  
Jackson blinked. "...what? What do you mean?"  
  
"Exactly what it sounds like," Edwin said.  
  
Jackson thought about that for couple moments.  
  
"You're in love with me," he realized.  
  
"No. I have lust for you, Jackson," Edwin murmured. "Don't get the two confused, as they're quite different."  
  
Jackson swallowed. "I don't have lust for you," he told him.  
  
"You have something, though," Edwin said, studying him carefully. "Don't you? Perhaps unrequited, misplaced... love?" When Jackson flinched just slightly, Edwin stepped forward with a grin on his lips. "I knew it."  
  
Before Jackson knew what was happening, Edwin was pressing him up against the wall and forcing his mouth open with his tongue.  
  
"You kiss like a human," Edwin murmured, pulling back for a moment.  
  
"I know," Joshua breathed back. "So do you."  
  
Edwin grinned slyly at him for a moment before leaning back in and pressing their mouths together. Jackson went along with it, not entirely certain of what was happening. Edwin grunted into their kiss, and Jackson wondered if he should make some kind of moan too.  
  
Edwin moved his hand between Jackson's legs and paused, pulling back with a frown.  
  
"Why aren't you hard?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.  
  
"What?" Jackson asked, pulling out of Edwin's touch.  
  
"You're not hard," Edwin told him.  
  
"I'm not what?"  
  
"Hard." At Jackson's blank expression, Edwin sighed and grabbed his hand. Jackson tried to jerk it back when Edwin placed it over his crotch, but the other held tight. "See? My dick's hard. Yours isn't."  
  
Jackson managed to get his hand back. "I don't know."  
  
"Don't you wank off?" Edwin asked. At Jackson's puzzled expression, Edwin said, "You know, wrap your hand around your dick and move your hand until you orgasm?"  
  
"...what?"  
  
Edwin rolled his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."  
  
"I..." Jackson said, at a loss for words.  
  
"Here," Edwin said, unbuckling his own belt and unzipping his pants. "I'll show you."  
  
Jackson yelped, covering his eyes. "Wha- what are you _doing?"_  
  
"Stop covering your eyes, you idiot," Edwin snorted, and hesitantly, Jackson uncovered his eyes. Edwin had his penis out, and was slowly running his palm up and down.  
  
"Wha- wha- what are you doing?" Jackson asked, focusing on Edwin's face.  
  
"Jerking off," Edwin said easily. "You've never done this?"  
  
Jackson shook his head quickly. "No, no," he said. "P-please stop."  
  
"Why?" Edwin said, looking vaguely amused.  
  
"You- you're making me uncomfortable," Jackson said, looking away.  
  
Edwin sighed, and Jackson heard the sound of fabric on fabric and a zipper.  
  
"There," Edwin said, and Jackson looked back. "I'm decent and mildly turned on right now. Do you want to see that movie or not?"  
  
Jackson considered that. "Wash your hands first."  
  
  
  
  
"Do you miss them?"  
  
Jackson looked over from where he was lying on his stomach on the bed to see Edwin standing there wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wings, dark, spiny, blood-colored wings were spread in all their glory.  
  
"Miss what?" Jackson asked, being deliberately dense.  
  
"You know," Edwin said, fluttering his pinions slightly. "Your wings. Do you miss them?"  
  
Jackson looked him in the eye. "Of course I do," he said quietly.  
  
  
  
  
"Stop talking to me, Jack," Taryn said with a sigh as she scanned his records.  
  
"Why?" Jackson asked as he pulled out his wallet.  
  
"I know you're not actually interested," she said dryly. "And I have no interest in being your beard."  
  
Jackson blinked. "My what?"  
  
"Your beard," Taryn repeated. "I know you're gay, Jack. I'm interested in being your friend, but I don't think you want me for that."  
  
Jackson spluttered. "Wha- I'm not gay!" He paused. "Oh, um. Wait."  
  
Taryn rolled her eyes.  
  
"No, no, I like girls!" he insisted. "Really!"  
  
"When have you last kissed a girl, Jack?"  
  
He thought about that for a moment. "1892."  
  
She stared at him. "It's 1970. How old are you?"  
  
Shit. "Uh. Twenty-three."  
  
"So," Taryn said slowly, "Jack. Have you ever kissed a girl?"  
  
In this life? "Um. No."  
  
"Have you ever kissed a boy?"  
  
"...yes."  
  
At her sigh, Jackson found himself protesting, "That doesn't make me gay!" She still looked skeptical. "He kissed me first," he muttered.  
  
Taryn exhaled. "I'm totally down with being friends," she said quietly. "But I don't think you're interested in that. Are you?" He shook his head. "Then I'm not interested in anything having to do with you, Jack. I'm sorry."  
  
  
  
  
Edwin had barely closed the door when Jackson pushed him up against the wall and captured the other man's mouth with his.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Edwin said, wriggling out of Jackson's hold. "What-" he paused to wipe Jackson's spit out of his mouth, "what are you doing?"  
  
"Kissing you," Jackson said impatiently, and tried to resume.  
  
"Hold on, hold on," Edwin said, and Jackson let out an exasperated sigh. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Kissing you," Jackson repeated. "What about this aren't you getting?"  
  
"I thought you didn't like... touching."  
  
Jackson stared at him for a moment, kind of shocked that Edwin remembered that.  
  
"...as long as you don't try to touch... anything, I'll be fine," he said finally, and at Edwin's nod, they kissed again.  
  
  
  
  
"Well, I've never done _that_ before."  
  
Jackson looked over at Edwin. "Done what?"  
  
"Slept in the same bed as someone without sex," Edwin explained.  
  
"Oh," Jackson said, for lack of anything better to say.  
  
Edwin snorted a little, stretching out on the bed, and for the first time Jackson registered that Edwin really was beautiful. He had light hair and tanned skin and a mischievous, easy smile of white teeth. Jackson could see the appeal.  
  
Edwin noticed him looking and asked, "Like what you see?" with a smirk.  
  
"Yes," Jackson said honestly, and Edwin paused, furrowing his eyebrows.  
  
"Do you?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Jackson said again. "Your vessel is aesthetically pleasing. It's beautiful, really."  
  
Edwin sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But you don't like it in an 'I want to bang you' kind of way."  
  
Jackson blinked. "Well. No."  
  
"See, that's where something went wrong," Edwin said. "You aren't sexually attracted to anyone. Are you?"  
  
Jackson pulled his legs up to his chest. "I..."  
  
"I know you aren't," Edwin said quietly. "And you've never been, have you?"  
  
Jackson slowly shook his head. "No. No, I've never been," he whispered.  
  
Edwin was silent for a moment before cupping Jackson's cheek and kissing him fiercely.  
  
Jackson went along with it. Kissing didn't really _do_ much for him, none of the fireworks, butterflies, heart-pounding stuff, but he appreciated the drive behind it.  
  
It was only when Edwin pushed Jackson down onto the bed and straddled his hips was when he broke their kiss.  
  
"W-what are you doing?" he asked.  
  
"Shh," Edwin murmured, grinding down on Jackson's crotch. "Relax, Jackie boy. I'm just showing you what it's like."  
  
"N-no," Jackson said, beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable. "No. I don't want you to."  
  
"Everyone wants to get off," Edwin told him.  
  
"I don't," Jackson said, feeling something like... panic? caught in his throat. "I _don't,_ Edwin, there's a reason I've never- never did what you tried to show me the other day, please stop touching me, I'm okay with kissing, I like kissing, but please, please stop-"  
  
"You don't mean that," Edwin told him, sliding his hands under Jackson's shirt. "There's something wrong with you, something that's telling you that you don't want this. But you do. Everyone does."  
  
"I- I _don't,"_ Jackson insisted, trying to squirm out of Edwin's hands. "I don't, _really-"_  
  
"Shh," Edwin murmured, leaning down and kissing him. His hands were getting adventurous, and Jackson felt shaky.  
  
"Stop," he whispered.  
  
"You don't mean that."  
  
"I do. Stop. Please."  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Stop. Please. Stop this."  
  
"You want this. You're just too broken to realize."  
  
"I'm not broken. Now stop. Please."  
  
"No, Jack. Not until you realize what you've been missing."  
  
Jackson felt a hand worm its way beneath his underwear, and suddenly felt himself bucking Edwin off.  
  
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" he heard someone scream. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" The voice was hoarse and guttural and terrified, and with a jolt, Jackson realized that the voice was his.  
  
Edwin was staring at him with wide eyes. "...all right, mate, sorry," he said, raising his hands. "Not touching you. See?"  
  
Jonathan waited a few moments to catch his breath before he said, "Yeah. I see."  
  
  
  
"Hey."  
  
Jackson looked up to see Taryn sitting down next to him on the park bench.  
  
"Hi," he said cautiously.  
  
"Haven't seen you in a while," she commented.  
  
"You told me to stop talking to you," he mumbled.  
  
"I didn't think you'd give in so quickly," she said. They're both quiet for a moment. "Hey, um. Are you all right?"  
  
And to Jackson's complete embarrassment, he turned into a blubbering mess right there.  
  
  
  
Jackson had become a gay pet.  
  
It wasn't exactly what he set out to be in the year 983 BC, but it was something, at least.  
  
He was dragged to girly movies and clothing boutiques and nail salons, and while he didn't mind any of those things, he would've appreciated not being labeled as "gay." Because he wasn't.  
  
But he enjoyed spending time with Taryn, however, and sacrificed comfort a lot just so he could stay with her.  
  
"So," Taryn said as she pulled a floral shirt with print that read _Menelvagor_ off of the clothing rack, "boys."  
  
"What about them?" Jackson asked warily.  
  
"Got one?" she said as she held the shirt up to herself and peered into a nearby mirror. "Oh, that's cute."  
  
"Yeah, it is," Jackson agreed. "Oh, and no. I don't. Have a boy, I mean."  
  
Taryn raised an eyebrow. "Who was that last guy you were dating?"  
  
Jackson shifted uncomfortably. "What makes you think I was last dating a guy?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Who else were you crying over?"  
  
He sighed. "His name was Edwin."  
  
"Edwin," Taryn repeated, rolling the name around in her mouth. "He sounds like an asshole."  
  
Jackson had to crack a smile at that. "He is," he told her.  
  
"Knew it," she said as she held the shirt she picked out up. "So this shirt. Yea or nay?"  
  
"Yea," Jackson said immediately. "Definitely yea."  
  
Taryn smiled at him. "Thank you," she said, setting the shirt on her arm where she had a skirt resting too.  
  
Jackson didn't mind shopping. He kind of liked it, really. He like nail salons too, as long as he was able to ignore the odd looks from the women there as his toenails were painted pretty colors.  
  
No, he didn't quite mind being Taryn's gay pet. He just resigned himself to being extra straight in his next life.  
  
  
  
  
"So."  
  
"So," Jackson agreed.  
  
"Do we say goodbye here?" Edwin asked.  
  
"I think so, yes," Jackson told him.  
  
Edwin nodded. "I'm sorry that this-" he gestures to himself, then Jackson, "couldn't work."  
  
Jackson sighed. "I still don't really understand why it couldn't."  
  
Edwin looked at him carefully. "Jackson, I am not in love with you," he said quietly. "I have never been in love with anyone. I cannot be in love."  
  
Jackson nodded slowly. "And I have never had lust for anyone."  
  
"Yes. That is where it doesn't work," Edwin said quietly. "You're in love with me. I have lust for you. You don't have lust for me. I am not in love with you. The only way we could ever work is just as friends, but you know that can never happen, right? We will never be satisfied with just friendship."  
  
Jackson nodded. "I know."  
  
"Okay, then," Edwin said, and put his hand out. "I'll see you around, then."  
  
Jackson shook it. "I'll see you around," he agreed.  
  
  
  
Jackson did see Edwin a month or two later, after walking in on Taryn accidentally falling into a bathtub full of water while holding her blowdryer during an attempt to escape Edwin's advances.  
  
He killed Edwin, right then and there, since it seemed like the thing to do.  
  
He then killed himself. It also seemed like the thing to do.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _as bad as someone else (won't look down)_  
  
  
  
Jordan was uncomfortable.  
  
Jordan didn't have enough time to choose a vessel that would be most comfortable. Pressed for time, pressed for choices.  
  
She sighed, resigning herself to this vessel, this body. It would have to do.  
  
  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hello," Jordan said cautiously.  
  
"I'm Tyra," a fair-haired girl said with a smile, and Jordan could feel that pull in her chest.  
  
Oh, fun. Talia still reincarnated as a girl.  
  
"Jordan," she said, holding her hand out.  
  
Tyra grabbed her hand and folded it into a fist, rapping hers again Jordan's.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Jordan," she said with a grin, and Jordan found herself smiling back.  
  
  
  
  
Jordan and Tyra became fast friends. They both went to the same shitty high school. Tyra was absolutely fantastic at imitations of their teachers, and Jordan thought that this was the most lighthearted they'd ever been. No marriages, no wars, no _boys._  
  
Jordan decided it was kind of a nice change from a male body. There were plenty of things to complain about, but she liked her thin hands and gentle curves and soft features.  
  
Tyra laughed, hair flying when she threw her head back, and Doc Martens kicking up.  
  
"You're cute," she told Jordan with a grin, green eyes glinting.  
  
"You're cuter," Jordan replied honestly.  
  
Tyra's smile turned slightly softer. "Thanks, Dan."  
  
Jordan nodded, stretching out on the grass they were lying on. She raised her hands and peered at them. At least this vessel had dark skin like Jephtah's. She'd missed that.  
  
"Whatcha doing?" Tyra asked.  
  
"Mm?" Jordan realized that she'd been staring at her own hands for a bit longer than explainable. "Oh. Just thinking."  
  
"Well, think about this," Tyra said. "A sequel to _Surf Nazis Must Die."_  
  
 _"No,"_ Jordan gasped, horrified.  
  
Tyra laughed at her horrified expression. "I heard a rumor..."  
  
"No, no, no," Jordan said, shaking her head rapidly. "No, not possible."  
  
"Hey, hey," Tyra said, raising her hands defensively. "Don't shoot the messenger."  
  
Jordan sighed. "No one had better make a sequel."  
  
"It would be hilarious."  
  
"I think the word you meant was horrible."  
  
  
  
  
"So," Tyra said as they shared a soda, "ever shoplifted?"  
  
Jordan's eyebrows shot up. "Sorry?"  
  
"Shoplifted," she repeated.  
  
"No!" Jordan said, sounding more scandalized than she meant to.  
  
Tyra snorted. "Come on," she said, draining the last of their Coke and tossing it to the side. "Let me show you."  
  
"No," Jordan tried to protest, but found herself trailing after the blonde girl.  
  
Tyra strolled into a convenience store like she owned it, tossing some joke over her shoulder that Jordan was too nervous to catch. She picked up a can of hairspray and examined it before putting it back.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked, turning to Jordan.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What do you want?" Tyra repeated.  
  
"Nothing!" Jordan said.  
  
"Everyone wants something, Dan," Tyra said, looking oddly serious for a moment. Then reverting back to her normal carefree expression, she says, "I've got my eye on that bottle of red polish right there," and gestures with a quick jerk of her head.  
  
Jordan shivered. _Thou shalt not steal..._  
  
"It's stealing, Tyra," she hissed.  
  
"I'm aware," Tyra said looking amused.  
  
"But- but stealing is _bad,"_ Jordan said emphatically.  
  
"So?" Tyra challenged, which made Jordan pause.  
  
"Well... well it's _bad,"_ she tried.  
  
Tyra raised an eyebrow. "Look how much I care."  
  
Jordan ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know..."  
  
"Come on," Tyra said. "Live a little, Dan." Then, so quickly that Jordan might be able to pretend it didn't happen, she kissed Jordan on the corner of her mouth before heading off in the direction of the nail polish she wanted.  
  
Jordan sighed and followed her.  
  
  
  
  
Slowly, Jordan gradually accumulated more nail polish and hair accessories and other trinkets than she ever really needed. She didn't exactly enjoy shoplifting, didn't seem to get off on it in the way Tyra seemed to, but she liked impressing Tyra, who'd kiss her before every grab.  
  
They didn't talk about the kisses. Jordan got the impression that Tyra didn't want to, and she was more than happy to let Tyra pretend Jordan didn't care. She did, though. She liked the kisses, and she kind of wanted to kiss more, maybe not always before she took something off a shelf.  
  
"Ready?" Tyra whispered as she opened the door to the shop.  
  
Jordan nodded. "Ready."  
  
Tyra leaned in to kiss her, but Jordan leaned in too, and when their lips collided, Jordan kissed back.  
  
Tyra pulled back with wide eyes. Jordan didn't waste time thinking about how she might've just messed everything up and instead just offered Tyra a quick smile before ducking into the shop.  
  
As soon as Jordan strolled out of the store, Tyra tugged her to the side and kissed her hard on the lips.  
  
  
  
  
"So," Jordan said as she pulled back, breaking their kiss, "where do we go from here?"  
  
They were lying on their back on the grass in the park, kissing lazily between swigs of soda that Jordan was pretty sure was spiked.  
  
Tyra shrugged. "I don't know. Do we have to go?"  
  
Jordan laughed, running her fingers through Tyra's long, soft hair. "No," she murmured. "No, we don't have to go."  
  
"Good," Tyra said, pale blue eyes fluttering shut. "I don't ever want to leave."  
  
  
  
  
Life went on.  
  
School ended, and they both hadn't applied to any colleges. Tyra had said to her, eyes red-rimmed and words slightly slurred, that she could make it without a fancy college degree. That she was smart enough to make it on her own.  
  
Then she passed out, head on Jordan's lap, and Jordan didn't really know what to think.  
  
She just turned Tyra on her side so she wouldn't choke on her own vomit and let her rest.  
  
  
  
  
"Ty," Jordan said as Tyra clambered drunkenly into her bedroom for the fifth night in a row, "I don't think this is very healthy."  
  
"Who are you, my momma?" the other girl slurred, burrowing into Jordan's duvet.  
  
"No," Jordan said, "but I _am_ worried about you."  
  
Tyra chuckled a little. "Don' worry 'bout me, Dan," she murmured. "I'll be fine."  
  
"I don't know," Jordan said worriedly as she pulled the blankets a little higher over Tyra's body. "You're like a car headed for a brick wall, Ty."  
  
"Thanks, hon."  
  
"No, really," Jordan said. "You're going to crash, and it's not going to be pretty."  
  
"Mm," the other girl said, sounding disinterested.  
  
"Tyra," Jordan said softly, "I'm really worried."  
  
"Don' be," Tyra said, turning over and cupping Jordan's cheek with her hand. "Don' be worried, babe. I'm gonna be jus' fine. I _am_ fine." She tugs Jordan's head down for a kiss. "I love you."  
  
Jordan blinked. They'd never mentioned love to each other before.  
  
"...I love you too," she said belatedly.  
  
Tyra smiled as she rolled over and buried her head under Jordan's pillow. "I know."  
  
  
  
  
Everything crashed down when Tyra showed up one night, clothes torn and her whole body shaking.  
  
"God, Tyra," Jordan gasped, helping Tyra onto her bed. "What happened?"  
  
Tyra's hands are trembling as she reaches out and takes Jordan's.  
  
"I was too drunk," she whispered. "I couldn't stop him. I'm sorry."  
  
Jordan felt her blood run cold as she realized that it was happening again. It was all happening again.  
  
"Who was it?" she murmured, squeezing Tyra's hands. "Who?"  
  
"Remember Eli from chem?" Tyra said quietly. "At school?"  
  
Jordan nodded slowly. "Oh, Tyra."  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered.  
  
"It's not your fault," Jordan assured her, pulling her in for a hug. "Oh, Lord, Tyra, it's not your fault."  
  
"I couldn't stop him," Tyra mumbled, burying her head in Jordan's shoulder.  
  
"I know," Jordan murmured. "I know. I'm so sorry."  
  
  
  
  
Tyra didn't go out the next night.  
  
She stayed curled up in Jordan's bed, alternating between sleeping and just thinking. Jordan would usually curl up with her, taking breaks only to go to her job or to get food that neither of them would eat.  
  
Tyra didn't really do anything.  
  
  
  
  
Jordan came back from her job bagging groceries at a supermarket to find Tyra sitting up on her bed, looking more animated than she had ever since she came back that one night.  
  
"Tyra?" Jordan said as she pulled her jacket off. "You all right?"  
  
"Mm?" Tyra turned to her, and Jordan blinked in confusion when she saw Tyra's glazed, unfocused eyes. "Hey, Dan."  
  
"Tyra? Are you- are you high?" Jordan asked carefully, stepping forward and sitting down next to Tyra.  
  
"Uh? May- maybe a little," Tyra said, sounding a little loopy.  
  
"What did you take?" Jordan asked, looking around.  
  
"Uh... dunno," Tyra said. "Prob-ly some sorta sed- seda- um-"  
  
"Sedative?" Jordan offered, and Tyra nodded.  
  
"Yeah. That," she said, flopping back onto Jordan's bed.  
  
Jordan hesitantly rubbed Tyra's leg. "I- I think you need help, Tyra." The other girl didn't respond. "You need help. This- what you've been doing- isn't healthy. I'm really worried about you. I think you're self-destructive, and it's hurting _me._ And I- Tyra? Are you listening to me?"  
  
She looked closer, only to realize that Tyra had fallen asleep. Jordan sighed, pulling the blankets up over her friend.  
  
  
  
  
Tyra seemed to be on a constant high. Jordan had no idea where she was getting whatever she was using, but she seemed to have an endless supply of it.  
  
Jordan was walking home one night when she saw someone standing on the ledge of a bridge. She wandered over, curious, and stopped in horror when she realized that _it was Tyra._  
  
"Tyra?" she called out. "What- what are you doing?"  
  
"Shh," Tyra said, not looking back. She looked wrecked, blonde hair a mess and clothes rumpled. "I'm thinking."  
  
"What about?" Jordan said carefully, slowly stepping closer.  
  
"Don't get too close," Tyra said warningly, and Jordan stopped.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked.  
  
"I'm going to fly," Tyra said, blonde hair blowing in the wind. "All I have to do is step off and fly away..."  
  
"Humans can't fly, Tyra," Jordan said softly.  
  
Tyra turned hollow eyes to her. "Why not?" she asked before looking back down at the busy street beneath her. "What's holding me down?"  
  
"Tyra, please-"  
  
"Nothing," she breathed. "Nothing at all. Can't you feel it, Dan? I'm going to fly away from here. I'm going to get away from everything. All I have to do is spread my wings..."  
  
Jordan viciously wiped away a couple tears that had made their way down her cheeks.  
  
"You don't have wings, Tyra," she whispered.  
  
"I do. I can feel them." Tyra looked over at Jordan, who was unsettled by the utterly serene expression on her face. "Don't you ever feel wings, Dan? On your back? A weight that isn't there, but you _know_ it is?"  
  
"No," Jordan lied. "No, Tyra, I don't. We don't have wings. Tyra, if you jump, you're just going to... you're not going to fly."  
  
"How do you know?" Tyra asked, looking up to the sky. "Look, Jordan, that's Bellatrix. And Betelgeuse," she said, pointing. "Look at the stars. I... I can touch them."  
  
"Tyra," Jordan said desperately. "Please step back. Please step down. I love you, Tyra, I love you so damn much and I need you to come back, you can fly away some other time, I _promise..."_  
  
Tyra didn't appear to hear her. "All I have to do is spread my wings..."  
  
"Tyra. No, no, no no no get back here, Tyra, plea- TYRA!"  
  
Jordan watched in horror as Tyra spread her arms and...  
  
And fell.  
  
  
  
  
Jordan screamed as she rushed towards the ledge. Tyra had managed to turn onto her back as she fell, and there was just enough light to see that her pale blue eyes looked completely peaceful despite her broken body and blood haloed around her head.  
  
She screamed until her voice ran hoarse, and then she turned around and _ran._  
  
  
  
  
"I'm gonna fucking kill you," she growled as she vaulted into Eli's bedroom.  
  
Eli blinked, looking up from the book he was reading. "Who are- Jordan? What are you doing here?"  
  
Jordan stared at him until something seemed to click in his mind.  
  
"Oh!" Eli said, eyes widening. He studied Jordan for a moment before smirking. "Well, don't you look pretty."  
  
Jordan scowled at him. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, you fucking rapist piece of _shit."_  
  
"Well," Eli said slowly, closing his book and setting it down carefully by his bed. "I think I have the advantage here."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"Well," Eli said again, "you have a female vessel."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well, you're wea-"  
  
He was cut off when Jordan launched herself at him.  
  
"I am not _weak,"_ she hissed, eyes flashing black as she wrapped her fingers around his throat. "I am _not._ Don't you ever accuse me of being so again."  
  
He tried to grab at her, but she had pinned his arms to his bed with her legs.  
  
"I am not weak," Jordan snarled.  
  
Eli managed to draw a gasp of breath. "Don't tell me you're jealous of her," he choked out. "That I fucked her and not you. Don't worry about that, hon. Honestly, I pretended she was you."  
  
Jordan spat out some ash onto his face before snapping his neck.  
  
"I am not weak," she said to the body, "and I am _not_ jealous."


	2. Chapter 2

_precious things (every right to be scared)_  
  
  
  
"Hey," Tyler says, tossing Joshua a can of YooHoo. "You all right?"  
  
"Hmm? Oh, yeah," Joshua says. "Just lost in thought."  
  
Tyler nods. "I'm gonna be in the back if you need me, okay?"  
  
Joshua nods. "Okay. Thank you."  
  
He's not entirely sure why he agreed to join Tyler's band, to _be_ Tyler's band, but he did. Tyler's kind of... magnetic.  
  
Anyways, Joshua's enjoying himself. He'll probably meet Talia somewhere along the way, like he always does.  
  
And maybe he'll finally be able to return again.  
  
  
  
  
Tyler is in love with him.  
  
Joshua feels bad about that. Tyler's beautiful, and smart and kind and funny, but Josh can't return any of the feelings Tyler obviously has for him. He feels a pull towards Tyler, of course. Tyler is this life's best friend. He might even dare to say he's _Joshua's_ best friend. After Debby.  
  
Tyler told him once, when they were curled up together in their van in the early days. Murmured that he liked girls, of course, that girls are gorgeous, but that he likes boys too. That he's dated some. That he- he kind of wants to date Josh.  
  
Joshua didn't turn him down point-blank, but he told Tyler that he himself likes girls and didn't expand.  
  
Tyler didn't ask him to.  
  
  
  
  
  
Joshua doesn't think he's ever felt this... dysphoric before.  
  
He's read about humans who've lost limbs before, lost them but can still feel them. He understands. He can feel his wings on his back, always, but he thought he'd gotten used to it, finally. He doesn't understand why he's suddenly so, so conscious of his (lack of) wings.  
  
Shirts make him feel uncomfortable. Tyler sometimes mocks him for it, good-naturedly, of course, about his eagerness to take his shirt off as much as possible. Especially onstage. Performing gives him such a rush, so very close to the high he hasn't felt since he last flew, and it just feels wrong to have a shirt on when it feels as though he could leap into the air and fly away.  
  
He misses flying. He misses it with such a passion that sometimes it makes him dizzy.  
  
He's standing in the tiny bus bathroom with his shirt off when he feels a searing, unbearable pain at the base of his right wing. Clenching his teeth in pain, he maneuvers his hand around his back to his wing, except-  
  
Except there's nothing there.  
  
He gasps out in pain, digging his nails into his skin near his right scapula in a desperate attempt to cease the pain. It's unbearable, and he grits his teeth as he feels a couple tears roll down his cheeks.  
  
He stands there, frantically scratching at his skin until the panicked feeling in his chest dies down, and he finally lets his hand fall down to his side, panting heavily.  
  
"Josh?"  
  
Shit. He scrambles to put his shirt back on.  
  
"Yeah, Ty?" Joshua calls back, trying to mask the scratchiness of his voice. He knows Tyler can see right through it, though. Hear through it.  
  
"You all right?" the other man asks hesitantly as he steps into the bathroom.  
  
"Yeah," Joshua says, avoiding catching Tyler's eyes in the mirror.  
  
Tyler gives him a concerned look, and his eyes widen when they catch on Josh's back.  
  
"Hey, what happened?" he asks, sounding worried as he tries to get Joshua to turn around. "There's blood on your shirt, J."  
  
 _Shit._ He must've scratched through his skin.  
  
"No, I- no, it's fine," Joshua says, turning his back out of Tyler's sight. "I'm fine, Tyler."  
  
"Did- did someone hurt you?" Tyler asks worriedly.  
  
"No, no," Joshua says. "I- I must've rubbed it against something. Don't worry about it, Ty."  
  
"Josh, you're bleeding. Let me take a look-"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Please, J, let me see-"  
  
"Tyler, stop."  
  
"Josh-"  
  
"Stop it, Tyler!"  
  
Tyler pauses and slowly lets his arms drop back to his sides.  
  
"I... sorry," Joshua mutters. "Could you, um, could you please give me some privacy?"  
  
Tyler looks like he wants to object, but finally steps out and closes the door.  
  
Joshua lets out a sigh before pulling his shirt back off and turning his back to the mirror. His skin where the base of his right wing should be is scratched bloody, and he winces a little as he moves his shoulders.  
  
He hates this.  
  
  
  
  
The vessel isn't baptized.  
  
Its parents tried, they really did. But Joshua is kind of baptism-proof.  
  
He cried, he screamed, he kicked and bit and fought with everything.  
  
And he set the holy water on fire.  
  
They were banned from that church, and nobody ever talks about it.  
  
  
  
  
They're in some tropical-ish predominantly Spanish-speaking city that Joshua can't even remember the name of. It amazes him that his band is so busy that he can't remember where he is half the time.  
  
He and Tyler are walking down a boardwalk full of tourists, wearing ridiculous hats that Tyler insisted that they buy to be "incognito". Joshua is fairly certain that neither the tourists nor locals would recognize them, but he's perfectly happy to humor Tyler.  
  
There are plenty of locals wandering around with various tropical animals around their shoulders, presumably to attract the attention of tourists. Joshua shifts uncomfortably as some guy with a snake wrapped around his neck walks by them.  
  
"You all right?" Tyler asks, looking over at him.  
  
"Yeah, I just... I just really, really don't like snakes," Joshua mutters, looking away.  
  
"Why?" Tyler asks, looking curious.  
  
Joshua shrugs. "They're... sinful."  
  
Tyler stares at him. "That's a bit archaic, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Joshua shrugs again. "I guess," he says.  
  
It's a little bit ridiculous that he's still so afraid of snakes. It's not exactly like he can be led astray anymore.  
  
He decides not to dwell on that, though, and instead directs them over to some little shop, pretending he doesn't understand the chatter of the locals.  
  
  
  
  
"Josh," Tyler says carefully as he pulls the curtain to Joshua's bunk back, "I- I was thinking. You know how, um, the other week I walked in on you and your back was, erm, bleeding?"  
  
"Yeah?" Joshua asked, uncertain of where this is going.  
  
"Did- did someone hurt you?" Tyler asks softly. "Is someone hurting you?"  
  
Joshua studies him for one long moment before realizing where Tyler's trying to go with this.  
  
"Oh, no, no," he assures Tyler quickly. "No, nothing like that."  
  
"Well, I just- I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you," Tyler says quietly. "If you need anything, I... I understand."  
  
Joshua looks at his friend. "Tyler, are _you_ all right?"  
  
"Yes," Tyler says easily. "Just- just let me know if you need anything, okay?" At Joshua's nod, he closes the curtain, leaving Joshua alone with his thoughts and suspicions.  
  
  
  
  
"They're very beautiful," Tyler comments.  
  
"Mm?" Joshua says, looking up. "Oh, the stars."  
  
"Yeah," Tyler says, holding up his phone. "Oh, look, that's Betelgeuse. And Bellatrix. And Rigel. And Saiph."  
  
 _"Saiph,"_ Joshua says, correcting his friend's pronunciation absentmindedly. "From the Arabic words _saif al jabbar._ Sword of the giant."  
  
"Saiph," Tyler repeats before throwing an odd look over at Joshua. "How did you know that?"  
  
Oh, um. "I don't know," Joshua lies. "Must've picked it up somewhere."  
  
"You just picked up the origin of the name Saiph?" Tyler says skeptically.  
  
"Uh. Yup."  
  
"...all right," Tyler says looking back up at the sky.  
  
  
  
  
Joshua is scrawling absentmindedly on a sticky note with a pen he found when Tyler comes along, rubbing his hair dry with a towel.  
  
"Since when did you start writing in Hebrew?" Tyler asks, frowning at Joshua's paper.  
  
Joshua frowns. "What?" He leans over to peer at his writing. The paper reads "אל תירא."  
  
"What does that mean?" Tyler asks.  
  
"Al tirah," Joshua murmurs. "Be not afraid. It's Hebrew."  
  
"...ah," Tyler says. He looks bewildered.  
  
"Sorry," Joshua says.  
  
"No, it's fine, I just... when did you learn Hebrew?"  
  
Joshua shrugs. "I don't know. I must've, um, picked it up somewhere."  
  
"...right," Tyler says.  
  
  
  
  
Joshua smiles a little as he examines his smooth, pale green nails. He hasn't painted his nails in years, and it feels nice. There are so many more colors than there were a couple decades ago, and it delights him.  
  
He doesn't know why he decided to paint them again today. Maybe it was because he saw a group of girls walk out of Forever 21 chattering about their hair, maybe it was because he almost took a skirt off a clothing rack, maybe it was because he noticed just how gross his nails have gotten.  
  
Anyways. His nails are pretty now, and it feels _sick._  
  
"Hey, Josh, have you seen..." Tyler trails off when he notices Josh's nails. "Oh."  
  
Belatedly, Joshua remembers that nail painting isn't exactly the most masculine thing he could've done.  
  
"Um," he says, and stops because he realizes he has nothing to say.  
  
"...are you painting your nails?" Tyler asks.  
  
"Uh. Yup."  
  
"Cool," Tyler says, and smiles at him.  
  
Joshua doesn't really know what he was expecting.  
  
  
  
  
  
Joshua would really prefer that Tyler's roommate would put a sock or something on his doorknob.  
  
He still feels shaky and ill when Tyler arrives back from his first grocery store run since they've gotten back from tour.  
  
"Hey," Tyler says, setting the bags down before crouching down beside Joshua. "What's wrong? You all right?"  
  
"Yeah, I..." Joshua scrubs a hand over his face, mildly embarrassed that he's having such a strong reaction to something that's so commonplace for both humans and demons. "I, um, walked in on one of your roommates."  
  
Tyler stares at him for one long moment before bursting out laughing.  
  
Joshua shifts uncomfortably, pulling his legs up to his chest. He nearly threw up when he walked in, so he doesn't exactly appreciate someone laughing at him.  
  
"I... sorry, it's just... your _face..."_ Tyler says, trailing off when he sees that Joshua looks physically ill. "Josh?"  
  
"I- I've never done that before. I... I'm not comfortable with it."  
  
"You- you've never had sex?"  
  
Joshua shakes his head. "Or anything sexual."  
  
"Like... like, not even masturbation?"  
  
Joshua shakes his head again. "No."  
  
"And you're twenty-six."  
  
 _Not exactly._ "Yeah." He wonders where Tyler's going with this.  
  
Tyler blinks at him. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
Joshua feels his throat close at that, and he stands up and stumbles back as though he's been slapped.  
  
"Josh, I..." Tyler looks at him with wide eyes. "I didn't mean..."  
  
Joshua shakes his head viciously, fighting back tears. "No, no, you're right," he insists. "There's something wrong with me."  
  
"No, Josh-"  
  
"There's something wrong with me," Joshua repeats, backing away.  
  
"No, no, no, J, I didn't mean..."  
  
"You did. You meant."  
  
"Please, Josh, I-"  
  
"Leave me alone, Tyler," Joshua says brusquely, turning around and heading for the door.  
  
He leaves.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 _got my heart strung up (can it go any faster?)_  
  
  
  
  
"Ethan Asher."  
  
The man opens his front door, smirk already on his lips.  
  
"Joshua Dun," Ethan says. "You've been in the news. The magazines. The-"  
  
Joshua cuts Ethan off by shoving him against the wall and kissing him hard.  
  
Ethan kisses back for a moment before stopping, seeming to come to his sense. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he says, pushing Joshua off. "What- what are you doing?"  
  
"Come on," Joshua says lowly, tugging at Ethan's shirt. "Right now."  
  
"What... _what?"_ Ethan says dumbly, blinking at him. "What are you doing?"  
  
"You know what I'm doing," Joshua tells him. "Sex. Come on."  
  
"Wha- what are you on?"  
  
Joshua rolls his eyes before kissing Ethan again and pressing their hips together. It feels gross, he feels dirty, but he keeps going, because he wants this. Because there's nothing wrong with him.  
  
Ethan places one hand on the back of Joshua's neck, pulling him closer, and the other on Joshua's hip.  
  
"You sure?" Ethan asks softly.  
  
Joshua nods. "Yes. I'm sure," he lies.  
  
  
  
  
Joshua lies with his head upon Ethan's chest, both of them breathing heavily. He isn't entirely certain of what happened, but he knows he didn't like it.  
  
He feels kind of ill.  
  
Ethan sighs, arching his back as he stretches.  
  
"So," he says with a yawn. "What did you think?"  
  
Joshua raises his head to look Ethan in the eye.  
  
"I don't know," he murmurs.  
  
"You didn't like it, did you," Ethan says softly, not even bothering to add a lilt at the end of his supposed query.  
  
Joshua shakes his head slowly.  
  
"Well," Ethan says. "Where do we go from here?"  
  
Joshua shrugs. "I don't know."  
  
"Well," Ethan says again, "you remember that I am not in love with you, right?"  
  
Joshua nods.  
  
"Good," the other man says, and Joshua closes his eyes, resting his head back on Ethan's chest before drifting off to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
Joshua is lying on his stomach on the couch, watching TV without really watching it when Ethan walks in, half-naked and wings partially stretched out. Joshua carefully avoids looking; he knows jealously will overwhelm him.  
  
"What're you watching?" Ethan asks through a yawn.  
  
Joshua shrugs, not looking back. "Dunno."  
  
Everything's quiet for a moment, albeit the murmur of the TV.  
  
"It's disgusting what they did do you," Ethan says suddenly, stepping into Joshua's line of vision. "Pinioning you. It's horrifying."  
  
Joshua swallows, looking down.  
  
"I'd miss mine," Ethan says softly. "'Miss' wouldn't even begin to describe it. You seemed so... put together, I guess you'd call it, when we met in Russia."  
  
"I'd had over a thousand years to deal with it."  
  
"And yet you cannot sleep on your back."  
  
They're both silent for a moment.  
  
"This vessel," Ethan says suddenly, "it can draw."  
  
"Mm?" Joshua says, looking up to see Ethan pulling a sketchbook off a table. "Um. Okay."  
  
"I could draw your wings," Ethan says, sitting down next to him.  
  
"Um. Why?"  
  
Ethan shrugs. "So you can hold on to them, I guess. Remember them."  
  
"I'm never going to forget them, if that's what you're implying."  
  
"No, of course not," Ethan says impatiently. "But I think it would be therapeutic or something. To be able to see them again, sort of."  
  
Joshua stares at him, unsure of how to feel. This man before him has lied, raped, and murdered; yet he's somehow able to consider Joshua's _feelings._  
  
"...all right," Joshua says finally, and Ethan smiles at him, opening up his sketchbook. Joshua catches glimpses of sketches, _good_ sketches, of Jephtah and Jermija and Jackson and occasionally Joshua.  
  
He doesn't comment.  
  
"Okay," Ethan says once he's turned to a blank page. "What were they like?"  
  
"Bat-like," Joshua says softly. "Leathery. With spines. Silver, too. Not that you can draw that."  
  
Ethan is already sketching out a vague form. "Like this?"  
  
Joshua peers over. "Sort of," he says. "But a little longer. Like this." He traces the paper where they'd go to. Ethan nods, sketching out a little further.  
  
They fall into quiet harmony, slowly drawing out Joshua's wings. Ethan was right, it _is_ therapeutic. Cathartic, even. Joshua feels kind of like crying as he watches his wings slowly being recreated before his eyes, but it makes him feel happy, too. Like there's proof that he wasn't always stripped.  
  
"How's this?" Ethan says finally, holding up the sketch for Joshua to see.  
  
It... it's perfect, and he tells Ethan so.  
  
"I can touch it up," Ethan offers. "Make it a little cleaner."  
  
Joshua shakes his head. "No, it's good like this. I like it like this."  
  
Ethan nods, carefully tearing the page out before handing it to Joshua, who holds it carefully, being mindful not to smudge it. He'll find something to put it in later.  
  
"Thank you," he whispers, and after a moment's consideration, kisses Ethan's cheek.  
  
  
  
  
Joshua hadn't even realized exactly how famous he'd become until he finds a tabloid with a picture of himself and Ethan captured in a grainy picture on the front. They're not even touching in the picture, but it's made out that Joshua and "Mystery Man" have more than a friendship.  
  
Curious, Joshua flips the magazine open and scans the article. It mentions twenty one pilots' unofficial hiatus and makes a comment on the speculations regarding Joshua and Tyler's relationship before veering off into the topic of Joshua's "Mystery Man".  
  
Joshua makes it to "Tall, blonde, and gorgeous, it's easy to see why drummer Josh Dun would fall for such a man," before having to close the magazine and laugh.  
  
He buys the tabloid just to show Ethan. He knows they'll both get a kick out of it.  
  
  
  
Joshua gets a text from Tyler a couple days after he and Ethan stop finding the tabloid quite as funny.  
  
 _Josh I saw the magazine. Can we talk please?_  
  
He sighs, staring at the text.  
  
"What's up?" Ethan asks, looking up from where he's sprawled out shirtless on the sofa. Joshua knows Ethan's still trying to seduce him, but he doesn't acknowledge it. It's pretty funny.  
  
"Tyler saw the tabloid," Joshua says, exhaling. "He wants to talk."  
  
"Do _you_ want to talk?" Ethan says.  
  
Joshua shrugs. "I don't know."  
  
"What happened between you two, anyways?" Ethan asks, sitting up. "I just realized that I've never asked."  
  
Joshua picks at a loose thread in his jeans. "He... Well, I told him that I've never done anything... sexual, and he..." Joshua swallows. "He asked what was wrong with me."  
  
Ethan looks at him. "Do _you_ think that there's something wrong with you?"  
  
Joshua shrugs. "I don't know. I'm not mortal, so it makes sense that I'm not... right in that way. But I'm a demon too, and demons... they're _supposed_ to, right?"  
  
"Supposed to what?"  
  
"Be... sexual," Joshua mutters. "But I'm not. I- I'm like an angel, aren't I?"  
  
Ethan looks at him oddly. "What?"  
  
"An angel," Joshua repeats.  
  
Ethan sighs. "You," he says quietly, "are not an angel."  
  
Joshua blinks at that.  
  
"You're not an angel," Ethan tells him. "Definitely not. Tell me, Joshua, how many angels would fuck a demon just to prove to a mortal that there's nothing wrong with them?"  
  
Joshua flinches. "I..."  
  
"You're not an angel," Ethan repeats softly. "You're a square peg trying to squeeze itself into a circular hole. No, you are not an angel."  
  
"I- I know," Joshua says, looking down.  
  
They both sit in silence for a moment.  
  
"So," Ethan says, "are you going to text Tyler?"  
  
Joshua looks down at his phone.  
  
"No," he decides, and puts his phone down before going over to make out with Ethan.  
  
  
  
  
"Israel," Ethan says one morning.  
  
"Mm?" Joshua says, looking up from his bagel. "What about it?"  
  
"We should visit," Ethan comments as he pours himself a cup of coffee.  
  
Joshua looks at him. "Why?"  
  
Ethan shrugs. "For nostalgia's sake?"  
  
"I'm not nostalgic."  
  
"Neither am I," Ethan tells him. "But it seems like a thing to do."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
Ethan shrugs again. "Something to do together, I guess. Impress the locals with our language skills."  
  
Joshua snorts. "If you'd like," he says, accepting a mug from Ethan. "Where in Israel?"  
  
"I'd suggest Tyre, but considering that's not even a part of Israel anymore, nor advisable to visit, perhaps not," Ethan says, sitting down across from Joshua.  
  
"Perhaps not," Joshua agrees. "Jerusalem?"  
  
"Why Jerusalem?"  
  
Joshua shrugs. "It's safe, probably. And there's probably a lot of older stuff preserved."  
  
Ethan blinks. "Does that matter?"  
  
"Nostalgia, right?"  
  
Ethan snorts. "Point."  
  
"So," Joshua says, pulling out his phone. "Jerusalem?"  
  
  
  
  
Joshua hadn't been to Jerusalem before, and he can't fight down his excitement as he and Ethan stroll out of the airport.  
  
"You look like you've never seen the sun before," Ethan comments with a chuckle as Joshua looks around wildly.  
  
"I've never seen Jerusalem before," Joshua says. "I'm just taking it in."  
  
Israel looks different than when Joshua had last been, but he expected it to be so. Jerusalem, at least, seems very westernized for the most part.  
  
"Let's see the Western Wall," Joshua says as he skims the tourist guide he grabbed from the airport. "And the Garden Tomb. And Gethsemane. And Al-Aqsa Mosque. And the-"  
  
"Let's check into our hotel first," Ethan interrupts, and Joshua consents, following his... friend? to get a cab.  
  
He thinks about their relationship as they drive to their hotel. Ethan isn't his boyfriend. The idea is simply ludicrous. He knows that Ethan can't love him, at least in that way. "Partner" could be considered accurate, but it has too many implications, both romantic and sexual, and Joshua doesn't feel right labeling them as so. Calling them "friends" doesn't seem right either, but he thinks it might be the best word for them.  
  
"Josh. Joshie. Joooooosh."  
  
Joshua blinks, looking up to see Ethan waving at him, bags in hand.  
  
"We're here," Ethan says, pointing to the building behind them.  
  
"Oh. Yes we are," Joshua says, and Ethan rolls his eyes.  
  
They check into the hotel (Joshua only mildly surprised to see that there was only one bed) before heading out to wander a bit before finding somewhere to get dinner. The air smells different than it did in Ohio, and it's nice. Like sand and spice and antiquity that he just doesn't sense in the Americas.  
  
He can tell Ethan is enjoying himself too, no matter what he says. They buy and share a couple hamantaschen, which are being sold despite it not being remotely close to Purim. They taste familiar to Joshua even though he's never had them before.  
  
"What do you think?" he asks Ethan.  
  
"Not enough orange," Ethan says, frowning at his pastry.  
  
Joshua snorts. "What you think of Jerusalem is what I meant."  
  
"Oh," Ethan says, and Joshua laughs again. "It's nice, I guess. More western than I'd expected, but it feels old, too."  
  
Joshua nods in agreement. "Yeah. It's nice."  
  
They have dinner in some touristy-looking restaurant. Joshua tries some kind of fish, while Ethan has ptitim, a kind of pasta. He knows they probably look like a couple, especially seeing that they share a coffee. He doesn't mind, though. It's not too far from the truth.  
  
  
  
  
They do manage to see the Western Wall, Gethsemane, and Al-Aqsa Mosque. Joshua is kind of giddy with excitement, seeing things he's only ever read of, seeing things he wasn't on Earth for. He can tell Ethan is amused by his enthusiasm, but he doesn't care.  
  
"Where to next?" Ethan asks one morning as they walk down the streets. He pops a handful of garinim into his mouth. "Didn't you say something about the Garden Tomb?"  
  
"Yeah," Joshua says. "But I thought it might be nice to just walk around today? See the shops and stuff."  
  
Ethan shrugs. "I don't have a preference."  
  
They wander down the streets, the smell of falafel from the street carts in the air. Joshua considers buying several probably overpriced trinkets, but he left his shekels at the hotel and Ethan, at first, refuses to buy him anything "tacky." Joshua finally manages to convince him to buy a necklace with a little hamsa charm for him. The hamsa is vermillion with the word סוֹף in silver script on the palm. He notices that Ethan bought himself one as well, dark crimson with the word הֵד painted in black at the palm.  
  
He doesn't ask.  
  
Hamsas both hanging around their necks, they continue down the street. There's an elderly woman sitting on the sidewalk, holding a tambourine and chanting some song in Hebrew that Joshua vaguely recognizes. Something praising The Lord that he must have picked up somewhere. He wants to drop some change into the little box at her feet, but he doubts Ethan would go for it, so he doesn't mention it.  
  
Later, as they're walking back the same way, Ethan mentions something about grabbing them something to eat. Joshua nods, and Ethan jogs over to a shop to buy falafel, probably.  
  
He notices the elderly woman from earlier still sitting on the sidewalk, wrapping up a different song that Joshua also knows somehow. He wanders over to her, and once she's done singing, he says hello to her in Hebrew.  
  
"Shalom," the woman echoes slowly. "American?"  
  
"Yes," Joshua says. "But I speak Hebrew and Arabic too, if you would prefer one of the two."  
  
The woman raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"  
  
Joshua nods. "Ken. Or naam, if you would."  
  
The woman cracks a smile. "You sound Turkish. And Hebrew is fine."  
  
"All right," Joshua says, switching to Hebrew. "My name is Joshua."  
  
The woman nods. "I'm Kislev. What brings you to Israel, Joshua?"  
  
"I came for help."  
  
"Religious?" Kislev asks. "You don't look much like a Jew nor a Muslim."  
  
"I've been both," Joshua says easily.  
  
Kislev narrows her eyes. "Convert?  
  
"Close," Joshua says, sitting down in front of her. "Incarnation."  
  
Kislev looks at him skeptically. "Is that so?"  
  
"It's why I sound Turkish," Joshua tells her.  
  
The woman snorts. "Whatever you say, Joshua."  
  
Joshua isn't really certain of how to respond, so he just nods.  
  
"Why are you talking to me?" Kislev asks bluntly, and Joshua blinks.  
  
"I..." he says, wondering the same thing. "I don't know."  
  
The elderly woman opens her mouth, about to say something when Ethan walks into Joshua's line of vision.  
  
"I have to go," he says before she can say anything. "Will I see you tomorrow?"  
  
"Perhaps," she says, looking a little vague. Joshua brushes it off as he jogs over to Ethan.  
  
  
  
  
He goes back the next morning, telling Ethan that he just wants to look at the shops. Which isn't untrue. He buys a brown hamsa with the word טרגדיה on the palm in white writing.  
  
He thanks the man in Hebrew, perfect accent making it obvious that he's fluent, and leaves, chuckling a little at the man's confused expression.  
  
Joshua finds Kislev in the same spot as he did yesterday. She's not playing her tambourine. Instead, she's reading something from a worn-looking book.  
  
"Hello," Joshua says, or begins to when she holds a finger up to quiet him.  
  
She remains in the same position for a couple of minutes, finger still up. It's only after she finishes the chapter of whatever she was reading when she looks up.  
  
"Hello, Joshua," she says. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Joshua blinks, a little unnerved. "Um..."  
  
Kislev studies him for one long moment before her eyes widen.  
  
"You dare come here?" she hisses, suddenly intense. "You _dare?"_  
  
"Who- what are you talking about?" Joshua asks, eyes going wide as he leans back. "Wha- what?"  
  
"I can hear you," she murmurs, eyes flashing. "I can hear your _eyes,_ screaming louder than the seraphim, the burning ones, the fiery six-winged beings flying 'round the Throne of God wailing holy, holy, _holy."_  
  
"Wha- what? _What?"_  
  
"I know what you _are,"_ she sneers. "You are an _abomination."_  
  
Josh flinches back. "How- how _dare_ you?"  
  
"I can smell the filth on you," Kislev growls. "Not only were you already tainted, but you had to _lie_ with a demon, too."  
  
Joshua stares at her, feeling very, very unnerved. And scared.  
  
"I don't know who you think you are," Joshua says slowly, raising his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "but I don't know you."  
  
Kislev stares at him for another long moment before her expression clears, and she smiles at him.  
  
Somehow, that unnerves him even more.  
  
"All right," she says, standing up. "Same time tomorrow?"  
  
She doesn't wait for him to answer. Instead, she ambles off, book in hand. Joshua watches her go, utterly bewildered.  
  
  
  
  
"Your hamsa," Kislev says the next day after a long moment of silence. "You know what it reads, correct?"  
  
"I do," Joshua says, running his thumb over the silver script.  
  
"Bit dark, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Joshua shrugs. "I suppose. It seemed fitting at the time, though."  
  
"Your brown one," she says, pointing to his pocket. "Why don't you wear it?"  
  
Joshua pulls the necklace out from his pocket. "It's not for me," he murmurs.  
  
Kislev looks over and reads the word on the brown hamsa. "Even darker," she says. "I hope whoever you're planning on giving it to doesn't read Hebrew."  
  
Joshua looks at her and smiles slightly. "No, he doesn't," he says, slipping the necklace back into his pocket.  
  
They sit there for a while in silence, Joshua wondering just what he was doing talking to this woman.  
  
"Why am I talking to you?" he decides to ask.  
  
Kislev hums, taking a sip of her coffee. "You want help."  
  
"I do?"  
  
"You said that when we first met."  
  
"I don't know why I said that."  
  
"Don't you?"  
  
"I- I don't know what I need help with."  
  
She looks up from her food. "You do," she says. "Or you should, at least. Tell me, Joshua, what kind of demon are you if you have no knowledge of the craft?"  
  
Joshua stares at her. "You- you mean witchcraft?"  
  
Kislev nods, and Joshua's eyes widen.  
  
"I am _not_ a witch!" he hisses, conscious of the people walking around them.  
  
"I know," Kislev says simply. "You're not a demon, either. You're not an angel. You're not a mortal."  
  
Joshua pauses, staring at her. "I... then who am I?"  
  
"I don't know, Joshua," she says. "But I know it wouldn't hurt for you to learn a bit of the craft."  
  
"I... I don't..."  
  
"You've killed people, Joshua," Kislev says impatiently. "Learning a couple spells isn't going to damn you even more."  
  
Joshua sighs. He can't believe what he's about to do.  
  
"Okay," he says, meeting her eyes. "Okay. Teach me."  
  
  
  
  
"Clear your mind."  
  
"My mind _is_ clear."  
  
"No, it's not. Now clear it."  
  
"I did."  
  
"You did not."  
  
"Did so."  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Did so."  
  
"Did- Joshua, just clear your mind already."  
  
Joshua sighs, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax. He lets his mind wander  off to how uncomfortable he is on the floor, what he ate for breakfast, the color of Ethan's vessel's eyes, this vessel's hair, drumming, music, Tyler, Tyler, Tyler-  
  
"Good," Kislev says, startling him. "No, don't open your eyes. Good. Now turn your eyes inward."  
  
Inward? Joshua frowns as he tries to roll his eyes backward.  
  
"No, not literally," Kislev says impatiently. "Your inner eye. Look inside yourself?"  
  
 _Why didn't you just say so?_ Joshua thinks to himself, and concentrates.  
  
Almost immediately, a jolt of pain flits through his mind, and he cries out, eyes flying open.  
  
"What did you see?" Kislev asks, kneeling down in front of him.  
  
"I don't know," he says breathlessly. "It- it hurt too much."  
  
Kislev sighs, looking disappointed.  
  
"Hey," Joshua says, feeling somewhat defensive, "I tried, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, you did," Kislev says, sounding a little gloomy. "Just... I thought you would be better at this. Naturally."  
  
"Well, not everyone's a natural," Joshua says crossly.  
  
Kislev rolls her eyes. "Stop being a baby. It's not like I'm _trying_ to hurt your feelings. Man up."  
  
"I'm not a man," Joshua says without thinking.  
  
She pauses and stares at him. "Are you a woman, then?"  
  
Joshua shrugs, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under her scrutinization. He still doesn't know what she sees with her eyes.  
  
(He asked her once, and she just stared at him until he looked away, mumbling something about the time.)  
  
"Look," Joshua says finally, getting too uneasy with her eyes trained so intensely on him, "should I try again or not?"  
  
Kislev nods slowly. "I think you'd better."  
  
Joshua doesn't know what that means, but he doesn't ask.  
  
  
  
  
"Where are you going every morning?" Ethan asks one evening as they eat their dinner.  
  
Joshua shrugs. "Walking. It's nice in the mornings. Not too hot."  
  
"Do you want me to join you?"  
  
"No," Joshua says, probably too quickly. "I- I mean, no, you probably wouldn't enjoy-"  
  
"You don't have to spare my feelings, Joshua," Ethan says with a snort. "I'm not a delicate flower. I won't wither if you tell me that you don't want me there."  
  
"Oh," Joshua says, realizing that this is probably true. "Um. I don't want you there."  
  
"All right," Ethan says affably, going back to his meal. Joshua blinks for a few moments before resuming eating.  
  
  
  
  
Joshua still can't look inside himself without feeling excruciating pain, but he can shoot sparks from his fingers.  
  
It's not really that it helps him much, seeing as he can spit sparks, but at least it looks cool.  
  
He can also talk to cats, which he already knew. And besides, that doesn't exactly help him with everyday life. Kislev suspects that his ability has more to do with his demonic side rather than witchcraft anyways.  
  
"It worries me that you can't see inside yourself," Kislev says one day as they take a break for lunch.  
  
"Why?" Joshua asks, suddenly feeling concerned.  
  
"It means that you can't see who you are," she says.  
  
"Oh," Joshua says, not really sure how to respond. "Does it matter?"  
  
"How do you expect to know anything if you don't know yourself?"  
  
Joshua pauses. "...oh," he says. "I... Well you can see me, right? Who am I?"  
  
Kislev just shakes her head. "Can't tell you that."  
  
"Why not?" Joshua asks, suddenly indescribably vexed. "Why the hell not? Don't I deserve to know who I am?"  
  
"Of course you do," Kislev says calmly. "Just not from me."  
  
Joshua grumbles. "Fuck that. Ow!" He glares at her rubbing the burn mark on his wrist from where she jabbed him.  
  
"I'm your teacher. Treat me with respect," she says sternly.  
  
"Sorry," he mutters, murmuring a quick healing charm she taught him. He would've healed quickly on his own even without the spell, but he wants the practice.  
  
"How do I find out who I am?" Joshua asks after a moment of silence.  
  
"You keep trying," Kislev says quietly.  
  
  
  
  
"The man you're with," Kislev says one day, during a break from learning for a snack, "your lover?"  
  
Joshua splutters. He and Ethan might've had sex once, but he certainly wouldn't label them as _lovers._  
  
"N- no!" Joshua says, and sees Kislev smirking at him.  
  
"You don't have to lie," the woman says. "Israel is very progressive. There are parades and everything."  
  
Joshua can feel his face going red. "I'm not gay!"  
  
Kislev raises an eyebrow, and Joshua reconsiders.  
  
"Well, I'm not straight," he amends. "But I'm not gay, either." He scratches the back of his neck. "I- I don't know. There's that guy I'm with... but there's always been this girl, and I don't... ugh."  
  
"I'm a pythoness, not a relationship consultant," Kislev says, looking back down to her börek.  
  
This startles a snort from Joshua.  
  
"So you don't know if you're gay," Kislev says after a moment as she wipes her fingers on a napkin. "You don't know if you're a man. You don't know if you're a demon. Tell me, Joshua, what _do_ you know?"  
  
Joshua stares at her. "I... I don't know." And he doesn't. He has _no idea_ who he is.  
  
"Well, figure something out," she says as she stands up to throw away her wrappings from her food, "and go from there."  
  
  
  
  
Joshua knows a couple more advanced spells by the time Ethan figures out what it is he's doing every morning.  
  
"Joshua? What- what the _hell_ are you doing?"  
  
His eyes shoot open to see Ethan, sketchbook in hand, standing a couple yards away and looking horrified.  
  
"Shoo, shoo," Kislev says, waving him away. "You're interrupt-" She pauses, suddenly reeling back, appearing disgusted. "You," she whispers, stalking forward. "You vile creature. You've _violated_ him, you know, you've tainted him with your filthy touch. You were all I could _see_ when I first looked into his eyes, you-"  
  
She's cut off when Ethan steps forward, tucking his sketchbook under his arm before snapping her neck.  
  
Joshua can scarcely believe his eyes as his teacher falls to the ground, lifeless.  
  
"Why- why would you?" he stutters out.  
  
"She was a witch, was she not?" Ethan says slowly. "Wasn't she controlling you?"  
  
"Wha- no!" Joshua says. "No, she was _teaching_ me."  
  
Ethan frowns at him. "Teaching you what?"  
  
"Astronomy," Joshua says dryly. "What do you _think_ she was teaching me, Ethan?"  
  
Ethan stares. "Why did you want to know witchcraft?"  
  
"Uh." Joshua scratches the back of his neck. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."  
  
"She was controlling you, Joshua," Ethan says gently. "You were under her thrall."  
  
"I don't think so," Joshua says with a frown. "I was under a thrall once before, and it didn't feel like..." He trails off when he notices horns sprouting out from Ethan's head. "Um."  
  
Ethan slowly smiles at him, and Joshua takes a step back when he notices Ethan's eyes. They're goat eyes, amber with horizontal slitted pupils.  
  
"Um," Joshua says again.  
  
"Come on, Joshua," Ethan says, and only then does Joshua notice that long, gleaming fangs have sprouted from his mouth. "We've only fucked once, you know." He takes a step forward, and Joshua takes two back. "I've missed your skin against mine. And you were _so tight..."_  
  
"Ethan, what are you..." Joshua trails off when the wind shifts, and the smell of Kislev's blood fills his nose. "Oh."  
  
His mind felt cloudy all of a sudden, and Ethan...  
  
Ethan looked _perfect._

Barely processing _anything,_ Josh finds himself launching his body at Ethan's, craving skin. Ethan catches him, accepting Josh's lips against his.  
  
Feeling his own body move in a frenzy, the last thing he can remember is Ethan's hands cupping his ass and his lips on Ethan's neck.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _never hold us down (if this is love)_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, God."  
  
Joshua's entire body aches, and he knows he's fucked up before he opens his eyes.  
  
He shifts a little as he reaches up to rub his eyes, and groans out loud when a jolt of pain flashes through him. He hasn't just fucked up. He's _been_ fucked.  
  
Fuck.  
  
"Oh, God," he mutters again, sitting up and looking around.  
  
Ethan is still asleep, looking completely sated, the bastard. Joshua takes a moment to slide on the closest pair of intact boxers and shirt he can find before waking Ethan up.  
  
"Mm- wha? _Ow,_ fuck," Ethan mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he sits up. He opens his eyes and looks around. "Oh, shit."  
  
"Apt description," Joshua mutters darkly. There really is shit, from Kislev's body upon her death, along with blood. They've- fuck, they must've drunk her blood because Joshua can taste it in his mouth. And he can see it staining Ethan's teeth.  
  
"Fuck, what did we do?" Ethan groans, looking over at Joshua. He frowns. "Why are you wearing my clothes?"  
  
Joshua looks down to see that he is, in fact, wearing Ethan's clothes.  
  
"Well, you must've torn mine," he responds, ignoring the way Ethan looks somewhat alarmingly pleased about how Joshua is in his clothing. "It's only fair."  
  
Ethan sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He pauses, looking back down at his hands. Joshua watches, startled, as they transform into paws. Claws, really.  
  
"I've never been a wolf before," he murmurs to himself. "Something else to add to the resumé, then."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Joshua asks, disturbing Ethan from his conversation with himself.  
  
"The beasts I can morph into," Ethan says, horns blossoming from his head and face shifting into something... _wrong._ Something not quite human but not quite animal. He... he remembers that face. Seeing that face above him as he was thrust into.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Joshua repeats.  
  
"Don't you have a beast you can turn into?" Ethan asks. He holds his hands- well, claws up.  
  
Joshua stares at him. "...no."  
  
"You have fangs," Ethan points out. "There must be something." Without warning, Ethan's face bulges outward and contorts into a grotesque synthesis of a man and a wolf. He snarls into Joshua's face, saliva dripping down his long canines, and Joshua feels his own body react in surprise, warping into something... wrong.  
  
Ethan stops snarling and simply stares at him for a moment before shifting back into his completely human form. Joshua frowns when he realizes that Ethan is _laughing_ at him.  
  
"What?" he asks.  
  
"You're a kitty!" Ethan bursts out, choking on a laugh. Joshua's hands fly up to feel his face. He has whiskers, and a triangular nose, and a smooth layer of fur on his cheeks.  
  
"What?" he mutters disbelievingly to himself as he searches for his phone in the pockets of his shredded jeans. He finds it and brings up the camera on his phone.  
  
His hair, a faded red that he dyed before twenty one pilots' last tour, is streaked with black. The sides of his face are coated with a fine layer of black hair (fur?). His eyes are a vibrant yellow with slitted pupils, and his teeth look needle sharp. His features are twisted into something vaguely feline.  
  
This is not his usual demon/human form. This is something else.  
  
"What?" he gasps again, running his tongue over his teeth. They're as sharp as they look.  
  
"You're a cat!" Ethan exclaims, still huffing with laughter. Joshua is pretty pissed off by Ethan's chuckles by now, and he watches his face grow into something sharper, something scarier.  
  
"Shut up," he hisses, looking away from his phone. "Shut _up."  
_   
"Your animal form is a kitty, how could I shut-"  
  
He's stopped when Joshua drops his phone and tackles Ethan into the dirt (and the muck and the sand and the blood).  
  
"Shut. Up," Joshua repeats, enunciating each word carefully.  
  
"Who's a widdle putty tat-"  
  
Without even thinking about it, Joshua is leaning in and sinking his needle-sharp teeth into Ethan's neck. Ethan lets out a yelp, pulling back, and Joshua is left with a chunk of flesh in his mouth.  
  
Ethan stares at him for one long moment before he pulls Joshua to him and kisses him hard. Their teeth clack, blood spilling from both of their lips, and Joshua feels a mixture of blood and flesh slide down his throat.  
  
He stops Ethan when he feels hands worming their way down underneath his boxers.  
  
"Stop," Joshua says, taking the moment to spit out the mouthful of blood he ended up with. He feels his facial features shrink back into their human state.  
  
Ethan sighs, dutifully pulling his hands away. "Not this again."  
  
"What we did," Joshua says, gesturing from himself to Ethan, "was disgusting."  
  
"It was just sex."  
  
"It was _animal,"_ Joshua says, feeling nauseous just thinking about it. "We were carnal creatures rolling around in dirt and blood..."  
  
"We _are_ carnal creatures," Ethan points out. "You and I. We _are_ animals."  
  
"We should be above that," Joshua insists. "Above the mortals."  
  
"Oh, look at you, so high and mighty," Ethan says with a snort and a roll of his eyes. "I didn't realize how prejudiced you are. No wonder you've never fucked anyone other than me. Your equal."  
  
"You're not my equal," Joshua says, scowling.  
  
"Ooh," Ethan drawls. "Tell me, Joshua, is it an actual belief of bigotry you've got there, or is it simply a superiority complex?"  
  
Joshua glowers at him. "Neither," he says, suddenly becoming very aware of how he's positioned atop Ethan, who's very, very naked. "Let's just get back to the hotel, okay?" he says as he climbs off of Ethan. He closes his eyes and starts mutter ping his healing charm, focusing on his face first.  
  
Ethan sits up, looking over towards Kislev's body. "What are we going to do with her?" he asks. He looks over to where Joshua is chanting quietly to himself. "Don't tell me you have a spell for that."  
  
"I do, actually," Joshua says, and Ethan throws his head back, laughing without humor.  
  
  
  
  
"Why did we do that, anyways?" Joshua asks.  
  
"Do what?" Ethan returns, still running his fingers over his freshly healed skin.  
  
"Have sex," Joshua says, looking over towards him. "I'm not attracted to you, Ethan. Not in the way you want me to be. I've never been attracted in that way to anyone."  
  
"Not even Talia?" Ethan asks quietly.  
  
Joshua sighs, picking at a loose thread in the fabric of his jeans. "No," he says softly. "No, not even Talia."  
  
Ethan nods to himself. "It was the blood," he says after a pause. "The witch's blood. The scent is an aphrodisiac for demons. It causes lust."  
  
"I'm not a demon."  
  
"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."  
  
  
  
  
"You've really never been in love?"  
  
Ethan looks up from his lunch. "Yup," he says with a nod.  
  
"How- how does that work?" Joshua asks, genuinely bewildered. He doesn't understand how someone just doesn't love. Can't love.  
  
Ethan shrugs. "The same way never being sexually attracted to anyone else does, I suppose," he says with a shrug. "It's just the way we are."  
  
"'We'?" Joshua repeats.  
  
"'We' being the demons," Ethan says. "Excluding you, of course."  
  
Joshua quiets at that.  
  
"So, you just can't love?" he asks after a long moment of silence.  
  
"I can love," Ethan says quietly. "Just not in the way you love me."  
  
"The way I love Talia."  
  
"No," Ethan says, shaking his head. "You are not 'in love' with Talia. You are in love with the thought of her, and you enjoy her company. No. You are in love with _me."_  
  
"Don't flatter yourself."  
  
"I'm not," Ethan says. "I saw the way you'd look at her. And I've seen the way you look at me. There's a difference."  
  
Joshua sighs. "And what's the difference?"  
  
"You're... obsessed with her," Ethan says. "It's not love. It's obsession. You're obsessed with her and the idea that she can make you... happy." He cocks his head, studying Joshua with a sort of triumphant expression on his face. "And that's what you want, right? That's what you want."  
  
"You know," Joshua says, scowling as he stands up from the table they're seated at, "you're a lot less clever than you seem to think you are."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
  
  
  
"When are we going to leave?" Joshua asks Ethan one morning. "We've been here for nearly two months."  
  
Ethan looks over at him. "Do you have an appointment?"  
  
Joshua rolls his eyes. "No. I'm just curious."  
  
"Curiosity killed the cat."  
  
He ignores the obvious jab at his felinity. "But satisfaction brought it back."  
  
"Tell me, Joshua," Ethan says, "are you satisfied?"  
  
Joshua frowns. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, you don't seem particularly pleased," Ethan points out, propping himself up on his elbow.  
  
Joshua sighs, throwing his head back onto his pillow. "No," he says quietly. "No, I'm not satisfied. I've never been satisfied." He sighs. "My life... my life is a war, Ethan. Every vessel has been a battle. All of them have been lost."  
  
Ethan sighs, leaning in and gently kissing Joshua's lips. "And what a beautiful battle this one's become," he whispers into Joshua's skin.  
  
  
  
  
"I wasn't under her thrall."  
  
They're both standing there, staring at the place where Kislev's body lay.  
  
"How do you know?" Ethan asks.  
  
"I've been under a thrall before," Joshua mumbles. Ethan looks curious, but doesn't ask.  
  
They stand there, just watching the faded layers of ash and blood blow about in the faint breeze.  
  
"You didn't have to kill her," Joshua says quietly.  
  
Ethan shrugs. "She saw right through me, Joshua. Forgive me if I was uncomfortable with that."  
  
Joshua sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He doesn't agree with Ethan's decision to murder the witch, but he doesn't say anything.  
  
It's only when they turn away does he feel a tickling in his throat. He coughs, trying to brush it off to accidentally getting a bit of dust in his throat, but...  
  
Joshua coughs, gagging on something in his mouth. It- it's moving, and he's gasping and choking until he spits it out...  
  
He spits out a fly.  
  
Joshua looks up at Ethan in horror. "What-" He's cut off when a swarm of bugs surge from his throat and out his mouth. Eyes widening, Joshua can only collapse to his knees as winged creatures emerge from his body.  
  
Out of his peripheral vision, he can see that Ethan has also crumpled and is currently spitting up what appears to be frogs and... fish?  
  
Joshua has no idea what's happening, and he's terrified.  
  
After what seems like a legion of insects gush from his throat, Joshua can finally breathe. He watches as flies and locusts and mosquitoes and God knows what else fly away in a swarm.  
  
He turns to Ethan and watches as Ethan coughs up his last frog.  
  
"Man," Ethan says dryly, wiping his mouth on his arm. "That wasn't exactly a party, was it?"  
  
Ethan's superfluous question wasn't particularly funny, but Joshua finds himself laughing until he cries.  
  
  
  
  
"You're a monster," Joshua comments mildly when he walks in on Ethan shifting his back and forth between different forms before a mirror. Human, goat. Human, demon. Human, wolf.  
  
Ethan pauses, halfway between wolf and human. "And what are you?" He cocks his head, turning to Joshua. "I've seen you in your demon form. I've seen you in your cat form. Tell me, what makes us so different?"  
  
Joshua scowls, looking away.  
  
"Hey. Look at me." Joshua slowly looks up. Ethan has shifted into a combination of all his forms, and Joshua flinches away in disgust. "You've never gotten used to looking monsters in the eye, have you? Tell me," he says, pointing to the mirror, "how do you expect to face yourself?"  
  
Joshua looks up at the mirror and lets his face contort into his demon form. His eyes are pure black, skin pale, features sharpened. He watches as his fangs slide down. He can feel his wings, a heavy weight behind him.  
  
His face slowly changes form. His features become catlike, complete with pointed ears and a triangular nose. His eyes brighten into a pale yellow, excluding the dark slits for pupils.  
  
"You're not an angel," Ethan whispers.  
  
  
  
  
"Why haven't you tried to find Talia's incarnation yet?" Ethan asks one evening.  
  
Joshua shrugs. "She'll find me. She always does."  
  
Ethan nods to himself. "All right."  
  
Joshua looks over at him. "Why? Do you know something?"  
  
Ethan shrugs. "Does it matter? She'll find you."  
  
"No, wait," Joshua says, sitting up. "What do you know?"  
  
"Why should I tell you?" Ethan says. "So you can go gallivanting away just to see her kill herself once again?"  
  
Joshua glares at him. "Maybe I can stop her."  
  
"You've seen how well that's worked."  
  
"You know what?" Joshua says. "How about this time you just don't touch her?"  
  
Ethan chuckles. "I haven't raped her, but too late for beating." Joshua hits him. "Ow!"  
  
"You've already hurt her?" Joshua demands. "How do I know that she's not already dead?"  
  
"Oh, I think you would've heard about it by now," Ethan says cryptically.  
  
Joshua sighs, flopping back down onto his back.  
  
"Relax, Joshua," Ethan says. "You'll see her again."  
  
  
  
  
"What's she like?"  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"Talia," Joshua says, drumming his fingers on his knee. "What's this incarnation like?"  
  
"Ah," Ethan says, looking up from his sketchbook. "Very creative. Introspective." He taps his chin. "Tired. This one seems exhausted, Joshua. And fragile."  
  
Joshua sighs. "What does she look like?"  
  
Ethan looks at him, eyebrows raised. "I didn't think you were that superficial, Joshua."  
  
"No, that's not what I meant," Joshua says impatiently. "I meant so I can recognize her when I see her."  
  
Ethan smirks at him. "No."  
  
"'No'?" Joshua echoes. "What do you mean, 'no'?"  
  
"No means no."  
  
"Well-" Joshua splutters for a moment. "Well, why not?"  
  
"Because I don't want to."  
  
Joshua gapes at him for a moment. "That's a shitty reason," he says finally.  
  
Ethan snorts. "Maybe I'm protecting her."  
  
Joshua gapes at him. "From what?"  
  
"From you."  
  
Joshua splutters. "From- from _me?_ Why would she need protecting from _me?"_  
  
"Well," Ethan says carefully, "every single time you've interfered, she's ended up dead."  
  
"Because of _you!"_  
  
Ethan raises an eyebrow. "Because of me, maybe. But Joshua, I'm not following _her_ through the years. I'm following _you."_  
  
Joshua stares. "Then- then why are you hurting _her?"  
_   
"Because it's fun!" Ethan says, throwing his hands up. "Why not?"  
  
"Because- because..." Joshua stumbles to find a way to express himself. "Because it's _wrong._ You're _hurting_ her."  
  
"You've hurt people," Ethan points out. "Everyone hurts people."  
  
"Well, why don't you hurt someone else?"  
  
Ethan raises an eyebrow. "That's not very angelic of you."  
  
"I'm not an angel," Joshua mutters.  
  
Ethan sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Joshua's forehead, but Joshua pushes him away. "I know."  
  
  
  
"How did you hurt her?"  
  
"With my hands."  
  
"No, I mean, in what way?" Joshua clarifies. "Did you hit her? Starve her?"  
  
"Mostly hitting," Ethan says. "I'd threaten to rape her sometimes, but that was only fun for a couple of times. Why?"  
  
"I want to know what to be prepared for."  
  
Ethan smirks at him. "Nah, I bet you just want to know all the little, lurid details." He leans forward. "This one's a crier."  
  
Joshua slaps him, but that barely seems to faze the other man.  
  
"And a fighter," Ethan continues. "Those two don't really seem to go together, but they do. It's a marvelous yet difficult combination."  
  
"Shut _up,_ you asshole."  
  
"And the best part?" Ethan says. "She thought she was in _love_ with me." He laughs. "Isn't that hilarious?"  
  
Joshua glares at him. "Tell me, how do you sleep at night?"  
  
"I close my eyes," Ethan replies simply.  
  
  
  
  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Packing," Joshua responds. "What does it look like?"  
  
"Are you leaving?" Ethan says, looking confused.  
  
"Yeah," Joshua says, stuffing a couple shirts into his bag.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To find Talia."  
  
"What makes you think you'll find her?" Ethan asks.  
  
"I found you, didn't I?" Joshua points out, grabbing his socks from the drawer.  
  
"Yeah, but..." Ethan shrugs, shaking his head. "Never mind. Do what you will."  
  
"Oh, and Ethan?" Ethan looks up. "If I ever see you again," Joshua says softly, warningly, "I _will_ kill you."  
  
Ethan stares at him for one long moment. "And is that how it's going to be?" he asks quietly.  
  
"Yes," Joshua says, "that's how it's going to be."  
  
  
  
  
Joshua sighs, looking up at the airport terminal to his flight back to LA. He checks his messages for the first time in nearly three months, and notices that his missed messages have exceeded 100.  
  
He sends a text to Tyler.  
  
 _hey._  
  
The reply is almost instant. _Josh? Where have you been?  
  
_  
  
 _  
if i was blessed (a sense of control)  
  
  
  
i'm in israel._  
  
There's a long pause.  
  
 _What are you doing in Israel?  
  
visiting  
  
Visiting who?  
  
no one. i'm just visiting._  
  
There's another pause.  
  
 _Why Israel?_  
  
 _why not israel?_  
  
 _Seems a little random_  
  
 _whatever. my flight back leaves in a couple minutes so i have to go now.  
_  
 _Okay  
Can I see you soon?_  
  
Joshua hesitates.  
  
 _i guess.  
my flight lands at LAX at 5:45 PM.  
if you want to meet me there.  
bye._  
  
  
  
  
The flight from Jerusalem to LA is over eighteen hours long.  
  
He has no idea what he's going to say to Tyler. What Tyler said to him might have been hurtful, but running away to a nearly three month sojourn in a foreign country was probably an overreaction.  
  
"No, thank you," he says, turning down the third drink offered to him.  
  
Joshua wonders what Ethan's doing. If he's staying in Jerusalem or going back to the US.  
  
He sighs, busying himself in the movie playing on the screen on the wall. He's pretty sure it's one of the Men in Black movies. He doesn't want to think about Ethan or Talia or anyone.  
  
  
  
  
He naps for a couple hours before finally accepting a cop of coffee from one of the flight attendants. She smiles at him before moving along to the next passenger, and Joshua is reminded of Talia's smile.  
  
He misses her.  
  
Talia's been a part of his life for so long. She's become part of his identity. And Ethan was right, at least in that aspect. He wants to know his identity, who he is. Because maybe knowing will make him happy.  
  
He wants to be happy. He wants to see her again. He doesn't know where he'll begin looking, though. Maybe he'll ask Tyler if they can start touring again as quickly as possible. They should be able to cover a good portion of the world.  
  
Joshua sighs, adjusting his seat for the umpteenth time. Sitting with his back pressed against something has never been comfortable for him. His wings feel cramped and achy.  
  
Phantom wings. Not wings. He doesn't have wings.  
  
Joshua exhales, looking out the window, and he kind of wants to cry.  
  
  
  
  
  
Joshua's digging through his bag, looking for a book when he stumbles upon a couple sheets of paper.  
  
They're sketches. Sketches of him.  
  
Some of them are of Joshua laughing, some are of Joshua sleeping, some are of Joshua looking absolutely murderous. Some are of Joshua in his cat form, others of him in his demon form. Some are of him naked.  
  
There's one of him in the corner of a page where he has his wings. His face looks... peaceful. He looks happy.  
  
To Joshua's embarrassment, he starts to cry.  
  
Thanking God that the person next to him is asleep, Joshua shoves the sketches back into his bag and pulls out his book.  
  
  
  
  
  
Joshua has barely stepped out of the airport before he's being tackled into a hug.  
  
"Hey, Tyler."  
  
"You _disappeared!"_ Tyler howls.  
  
"I told you I'd be back," Joshua says, bewildered.  
  
"You _disappeared_ off the face of the _earth,_ Josh," Tyler says, pulling back and cupping Joshua's cheeks. "I was scared to _death._ What if you died?"  
  
 _"Died?"_ Joshua repeated.  
  
"Or got lost, or kidnapped, or something," Tyler says, kissing Joshua's forehead so quickly that it might not even have happened. "Josh, I'm so, so sorry."  
  
"I overreacted," Joshua assures him. "Like, a lot."  
  
"That doesn't excuse what I said," Tyler says firmly. "Absolutely not. And I'm _so sorry_ for it, Josh."  
  
Joshua shrugs. "It's okay. There probably _is_ something wrong with me."  
  
"No! No, no, no," Tyler says, shaking his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. There's such a thing as asexuality, J, I found that out when you left. It's where people don't feel sexual attraction. I'm sorry I didn't know that, Josh. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did."  
  
"...oh." Joshua blinks. Mortals experience what he does, too? Or rather, don't experience?  
  
"So," Tyler says with a small smile, "Taco Bell?"  
  
  
  
  
  
 _you're an angel (you have no idea)  
_  
  
  
  
"Joshua."  
  
"What, Debby?"  
  
Debby steps into the light, wings gleaming.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asks.  
  
Joshua blinks at her. "I'm looking for Talia."  
  
"She's right in front of you."  
  
Joshua furrows his eyebrows. "You're..."  
  
"Metaphorically," Debby says impatiently. "You already know her."  
  
"I do?"  
  
Debby nods. "She's... she's not what you think."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You'll see," Debby says as she steps back and disappears.  
  
  
  
  
Joshua stumbles through the next day in a daze. What did Debby mean?  
  
"You all right?" Tyler asks worriedly, and Joshua studies his friend's face, and... oh.  
  
Oh, no.  
  
Could he be...  
  
"Josh?"  
  
Joshua blinks. "Wha- yeah, I'm fine," he says. He weighs something in his mind for a moment before deciding to go for it.  
  
"Talia?" he blurts.  
  
Tyler looks up at him, eyes clouded, and Joshua is about to apologize when Tyler says, "Jephtah?"  
  
Joshua freezes.  
  
Tyler blinks, shaking his head as if to clear it. He sees Joshua looking at him, and looks confused as to why Joshua is staring at him with his jaw dropped. "Josh?" he asks. "Everything all right?"  
  
"Yeah," Joshua says, still wide-eyed. "Fine."  
  
Tyler gives him a dubious look. "All right," he says slowly before walking pass Joshua.  
  
Joshua walks to his bunk and crawls inside in a daze.  
  
 _Talia reincarnated as a man.  
_  
  
  
  
  
Now that Joshua knows that Tyler is Talia, he wonders how he hadn't noticed before.  
  
The shyness, the gentleness, the subtle sadness. The somewhat dry sense of humor. The fear.  
  
 _Why does she always have to be afraid?_ Joshua wonders, and decides not to answer himself.  
  
This...  
  
Well, this was unexpected.  
  
And what about the fact that he found Ethan the moment he set out to do so, but couldn't recognize Talia when she- he- was right in front of him? Doesn't it say something about him?  
  
Joshua groans, burying his head in his pillow.  
  
  
  
  
He watches Tyler extra carefully during that night's performance, and yeah, he sees it. He sees Talia in every move Tyler makes.  
  
He can't believe he didn't notice. It seems like the most blatant thing in the world.  
  
He sees the little things, too. The way Tyler plays with his hair or pulls at his shirt. The way he seems to smile with his whole face, not just his lips.  
  
The way he cries with his whole body.  
  
Joshua drums as hard as he can that night.  
  
Later, after the show and they're alone on the bus, Joshua pulls Tyler aside and kisses him.  
  
"I thought you liked girls," Tyler says, wide-eyed as Joshua pulls back.  
  
"I do like girls," Joshua says simply. "But I like boys too."  
  
Tyler stares at him for a moment before kissing him again.  
  
Joshua is finally beginning to relax into their kiss when Tyler moves their hips together, and only then does Joshua remember that aspect of a relationship. He does his best not to try to pull away.  
  
Tyler deepens their kiss, pushing him down onto the bus's sofa and straddling Joshua's hips. Their kiss is starting to get less romantic, and a bit too sexual for Joshua's comfort.  
  
Tyler's starting to move his lips across Joshua's jaw, slowly, and Joshua knows he should be enjoying this, that humans enjoy this, that _demons_ enjoy this, but he hears the word, "Stop" ripping its way out of his throat.  
  
Tyler stops, pulling back. "All right, J?" he asks.  
  
"Yeah," Joshua says, running his fingers through his hair. "I... sorry."  
  
"It's all right," Tyler says.  
  
"I- I like boys," Joshua says, "but I don't know if I'm ready to kiss them yet."  
  
"Oh." Tyler nods, and slides off of Joshua's lap.  
  
"I'm sorry," Joshua says.  
  
Tyler shakes his head. "Don't be sorry, Josh. I'm sorry if I pushed you."  
  
"You didn't," Joshua says. "You didn't, don't worry."  
  
"No, no, you're ace," Tyler says. "I..." He runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, J."  
  
"I do like kissing," Joshua tells him. "I really do. It's just that sex..." He shudders a little just at the thought. "I don't... I don't want that."  
  
Tyler kisses his forehead. "And that's okay."  
  
  
  
  
"Josh," Tyler says carefully one morning, "you know that magazine? With you and that guy on it?"  
  
"Mm? Oh, yeah?" Joshua says as he pours himself a cup of coffee. "What about it?"  
  
"Who was he?"  
  
"Oh. He was... he was an old friend," Joshua says.  
  
"What was his name?" Tyler says with a frown. "He looked kinda familiar."  
  
"Ethan," Joshua says, carefully watching Tyler's reaction as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Ethan Asher."  
  
Tyler blanches. "E- Ethan Asher?"  
  
"Do you know him?" Joshua asks, knowing the answer.  
  
"...no."  
  
"Tyler," Joshua says, setting his mug down. "You can tell me. We're not friends anymore, if that changes anything."  
  
Tyler takes a deep breath. "I... I used to date him," he whispers. "Not for a very long time. Barely a year."  
  
"And did he... did he hurt you?"  
  
Tyler looks up at him, startled. "How- how did you know that?"  
  
"I've known Ethan for a very long time," Joshua tells him as he wraps his arms around his... boyfriend? "Did he... Did he rape you?"  
  
Tyler starts. "No, no," he says. "He'd just... hit me sometimes. Nothing like that."  
  
Joshua breaths a small sigh of relief. Ethan didn't lie about that, at least.  
  
"Why... why do you ask?" Tyler asks softly.  
  
"Like I said," Joshua says quietly. "I've known Ethan for a very long time."  
  
  
  
Joshua's eyes shoot open.  
  
He's not even aware of why he's rolling out of his bunk and sliding open the curtains of Tyler's bunk until he registers that Tyler's screaming.  
  
"Ta- Tyler!" he hisses, trying to shake Tyler awake. There's enough light that Joshua can see that tears spilling out of his eyes and that he's-  
  
Tyler's crossing his legs.  
  
Joshua swallows hard, frantically shaking Tyler awake. He notices other people in their bunks starting to stir.  
  
"Tyler. Tyler!" he tries. No response. "Talia!"  
  
Tyler's eyes shoot open and search about until his eyes land in Josh.  
  
"Jephtah," he- she gasps, and Joshua can feel his heart breaking as she looks on in unadulterated fear. "Jephtah... /help."/  
  
"Wake up, love," he murmurs. "Wake up."  
  
Joshua senses someone next to him and turns to see Mark standing there.  
  
"Nightmare?" Mark asks.  
  
Joshua nods, squeezing Tyler's hand. "I need you to wake up, Tyler," he murmurs. "Tyler. Tyler!"  
  
He watches as Tyler's eyes finally focus.  
  
"J-Josh," he stutters out.  
  
"Tyler," Joshua whispers, leaning in and hugging him the best he can. Vaguely, he notices that a couple of the techs have rolled out of their bunks and are standing around, looking worried.  
  
Tyler notices everyone looking at him with concerned expressions and blushes, looking embarrassed.  
  
"Sorry," he says, voice cracking.  
  
"It's okay," Joshua says, shooing everyone off. "Do you want to go to the front of the bus to talk?"  
  
Tyler swallows hard, looking around. "I... okay," he says softly, sliding out of his bunk.  
  
Joshua hands Tyler a bottle of water once they're situated on the couch in the lounge.  
  
"Thanks," Tyler says hoarsely. He takes a long swig before clearing his throat.  
  
He sighs, capping the bottle, and Joshua braces himself to hear what he already knows.  
  
"They started when I was fourteen," Tyler says, so quietly that Joshua almost misses it. "These nightmares."  
  
Joshua doesn't say anything, but instead just links their fingers together.  
  
"They're always the same," Tyler says. "I'm being held down, and my clothes are being ripped off, and-" he covers his mouth with his free hand, "and someone- someone's hurting me." He sobs once, the sound muffled by his hand. "Someone's r-raping me."  
  
Joshua watches as Tyler breaks down in front of him, and he finds himself pulling his t-shirt off and helping Tyler pull it over his head. Tyler doesn't question why Joshua is giving him a shirt when he's already wearing one, but instead just hugs his legs to his chest, looking grateful.  
  
"It's been a while since I've had one," Tyler says quietly. "They stopped. After I met you." He hugs his legs a little tighter. "Something changed, I guess. I don't know what."  
  
"Just to clarify," Joshua says, "these nightmares don't have to do with the time you dated Ethan, right?"  
  
"Right," Tyler says, sounding small, and Joshua wraps his arms around his friend.  
  
  
  
  
Joshua wonders, not for the first time, if a songwriting retreat in a church was the best idea for him.  
  
He has difficulty standing near the altar, and can barely pray without feeling uncomfortable. He may be able to burn holy water, but crosses can burn him.  
  
"You all right?" Tyler asks, stepping up behind Joshua. "You look a little pale."  
  
"Mm? Oh, yeah, just thinking," Joshua says quickly, stepping inside.  
  
The church is old. Very old. It smells of rotting wood and incense, along with holy water. Joshua's fingers twitch, and he forces the spark he feels building down.  
  
He follows Tyler down to one of the back rooms where they're sleeping. The room is thankfully cross-free, and Joshua breaths a quiet sigh of relief as he sets up his sleeping bag.  
  
"Pretty sweet, huh?" Tyler says, looking around. His eyes catch on a small inscription in Hebrew on the wall. "I wonder what that says."  
  
Joshua glances up. "Ani ve'atah, neshaneh et ha'olam," he says automatically. "You and I, we will change the world."  
  
Tyler stares at him. "What?"  
  
Crap. "It's, um, a song?" Joshua tries. "Ani ve'atah neshaneh et ha'olam, ani ve'atah az yavo'u kvar kulam? You know?"  
  
"...no," Tyler says.  
  
"Oh," Joshua says. He shrugs.  
  
Tyler gives him an odd look, but then drops it.  
  
"Apparently your kit's in the room there," he says, pointing. "If you want to go and make sure it's set up right."  
  
"Awesome. Thanks, Tal- Ty," Joshua says as he kisses Tyler on his way out.  
  
  
  
  
This was a ridiculous idea.  
  
Joshua can't even go into several of the rooms in the church. All it's been doing is causing severe discomfort and occasionally pain in Josh, along with raising suspicion in Tyler.  
  
At least the room where his kit is doesn't have any crosses. He spends most of his time there.  
  
"Hey," Tyler says, "I'm just going to go pick our food up. Do you want me to grab anything for you?"  
  
"No, thank you," Joshua says.  
  
"Okay." Tyler pauses, looking at him. "Are you okay, Josh?"  
  
"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Joshua assures him. "Why?"  
  
"You just seem a little..." he gestures around, "spacey."  
  
"Just thinking," Joshua tells him. "Go get our pizza," he says, standing up to give Tyler a kiss.  
  
Tyler kisses back, and he looks puzzled as Joshua sits back down.  
  
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asks.  
  
"I'm fine, Ty," Joshua says.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ethan, Ethan, stop!"  
  
Joshua can hear Tyler shrieking desperately, and without even a conscious thought, he's bolting out of his cot and practically flying down to where Tyler is screaming.  
  
Ethan is...  
  
Ethan has Tyler by the throat, and is pulling at Tyler's clothes. Tyler's fighting desperately, but Ethan is bigger, stronger, and has the advantage. Joshua's stomach lurches when he realizes Ethan has managed to get a hand down Tyler's pants.  
  
"Ethan, what the hell are you doing?" Tyler gasps out before he sees Joshua. "Josh!"  
  
Ethan turns, which gives Tyler enough time to knee him in the crotch. Ethan lets out a swear and turns back to Tyler.  
  
"EYAL!" Joshua shouts, and Ethan pauses and turns back to Joshua.  
  
"Jephtah. Look at you," Ethan sneers. "Come to kill me again?"  
  
Tyler frowns, looking confused, and Joshua realizes that Ethan switched to Hebrew.  
  
"If you do not let history repeat itself, then I will not kill you," Joshua says in Hebrew, taking a step forward.  
  
Ethan laughs dryly, eyes flashing insidiously. "Can you risk it, Jephtah? Your record leaves much to be desired. Oh, wait," he laughs, "you're a demon now. Remember that, brother? With no chance of ever reaching the Kingdom of Heaven again?"  
  
Joshua hisses. He can feel his face contorting into his demonized form. Contorting into the abomination.  
  
"No wings," Ethan says, mocking. "Stripped, remember? That must have... hurt."  
  
Letting out a screech, Joshua tackles Ethan to the ground.  
  
"NO IDEA!" he screams into Ethan's face. "YOU'VE NO IDEA! SO SHUT UP, SHUT _UP,_ YOU _MONSTER!"_  
  
"Don't pretend I cannot see your eyes, brother," Ethan spits. "You're as much of a monster as I."  
  
Joshua shrieks wordlessly, spitting into Ethan's face. "Fight back!" he demands. "Fight back!"  
  
"And scare your pet?" Ethan murmurs, gesturing towards Tyler. "It's so... sensitive."  
  
Joshua hisses. "Sh-he is stronger than you could imagine," he growls. "Stronger than you will ever be, you coward."  
  
Ethan glares at him for a moment before his eyes darken until they're completely black. He spits into Joshua's face before he snarls, "Call me a coward one more time. I dare you."  
  
"Coward," Joshua sneers. "You craven. You should _burn_ simply for your cowardice, you-"  
  
Ethan punches Joshua in the throat.  
  
Joshua flies across the room, hitting the wall with a thud.  
  
"Josh?" he hears Tyler call meekly.  
  
"Run, Tyler," Joshua says lowly. "Run. Run!" With that, he springs up and tackles Ethan to the ground. He spits again, but this time he spits ashes. Ethan screams when the ashes hit his face.  
  
"You son of a-" Ethan pauses to shake the ashes off, "perverse and rebellious woman!"  
  
Joshua has no mother, which they both know, but he still shouts in outrage. He slaps Ethan across the face, who retaliates by breathing a stream of fire into Joshua's eyes. Josh shrieks and releases Ethan to bat at the flames.  
  
"Fight back," Ethan taunts. "Fight back, you blind _fool-"_ He's cut off when Joshua breathes a column of flames at his face.  
  
Using Ethan's distraction, Joshua turns and grabs the wooden cross nailed to the wall. He gasps in pain, but he manages to hold on to it and presses it to Ethan's forehead. He grabs Ethan's hand and uses it to hold the cross in place. Ethan begins to scream.  
  
"Tell me your name!" Joshua demands.  
  
"N-no!" Ethan shrieks back. "Never!"  
  
"You must!" Joshua orders. "Tell me your name!" He's not entirely certain what language he's speaking in now. Hebrew, English, Latin? Greek? Sumerian?  
  
Either way, Ethan understands and screeches back _"Lo!"_ Hebrew, then.  
  
"Yes!" Joshua shouts. "You must!" He presses down even harder on Ethan's hand, and subsequently the cross, and Ethan lets out a strangled scream.  
  
"Never!" he manages to get out. "I will- I will never!"  
  
"Tell me!"  
  
"You left me, Joshua, why did you leave me? You just left me! After everything!"  
  
Joshua groans and forces himself to summon every bit of Grace he has left. There isn't much, but he can feel his eyes turn white, and he feels phantom wings behind him.  
  
"Tell me," he says softly. "Tell me your name."  
  
"No!" Ethan shrieks.  
  
Joshua grabs the side of Ethan's face with his free hand, and the Grace flowing over his skin burns the demon writhing beneath him.  
  
"Tell me," he repeats.  
  
"N-no," Ethan says weakly.  
  
"Tell me," Joshua commands.  
  
"Jephtah, after- after _everything...?"_  
  
"Tell me your name," Joshua answers softly, firmly, and Ethan nods, accepting.  
  
"Eau- Eauvoumach," he gasps out. "Eauvoumach."  
  
Joshua nods and begins to murmur a chant. Eauvoumach thrashes at the beginning, and Joshua grabs his throat and continues the chant until Eauvoumach is no longer moving.  
  
Joshua slowly stands up.  
  
"You- you killed him," Tyler says softly.  
  
Joshua is panting heavily as he feels his eyes slowly fade back to their human state.  
  
"Yes," he says roughly. "Yes, I did."  
  
"You..." Tyler begins, but stops. "What are we going to do?"  
  
"Go back to sleep," Joshua says softly. "This was a nightmare."  
  
Tyler stares at him. "What are you going to do with- him?" He gestures down towards Ethan's- Eauvoumach's body.  
  
"It is none of your concern," Joshua says, and Tyler blinks at the formality. "Go, Tal- Tyler."  
  
"No, no," Tyler insists. "What are you going to do?"  
  
Joshua sighs. He didn't want to have to resort to this.  
  
He holds a hand out before murmuring a short chant under his breath. Tyler stares at him, confused for a moment before he starts to sway. Joshua manages to catch him before he hits the ground.  
  
Carefully, Joshua carries Tyler back to their bedroom and gently sets him down. He takes off Tyler's shoes before pulling the covers up over him. He pauses for a moment before kissing Tyler's forehead and then leaving.  
  
Joshua walks out to where Eauvoumach's body lies. He's not proud that he knows this spell.  
  
He kneels next to the body and places his hand on its chest. He murmurs a couple words in his mother tongue, concentrating. Slowly, the body begins to burn from the inside out. Joshua repeats the words over and over again until Eauvoumach's body is nothing but ash.  
  
  
  
  
"I had such an weird dream last night," Tyler comments over his bowl of Lucky Charms.  
  
"Mm?" Joshua says, mouth full of cereal.  
  
"This guy, Ethan," Tyler says, "you know, my ex, was here. And he was, um, attacking me? And you ran in and, uh, killed him."  
  
Joshua blinks at him. "I did what?"  
  
"Killed him," Tyler repeats. "And you were yelling in... some language, and Ethan started to yell back and you guys fought with like... fire, and you were demanding something, and you said it in English too, asking what his name was, and then he finally told you and then you grabbed his throat and... killed him." He sighs. "This is weird, sorry."  
  
"No, no, it's fine," Joshua assures him. "What happened next?"  
  
"I was asking you what you were going to do, like with the body, and you kept telling me to go to bed, and I wouldn't, and then you held your hand up and said- something, and then I was waking up," Tyler finishes.  
  
"Huh," Joshua says. He takes another bite of cereal. "Odd."  
  
  
  
  
"What on Earth are you doing here?" Debby asks incredulously.  
  
Joshua sighs. "I don't know."  
  
"You must be incredibly uncomfortable," she remarks, eyes catching on one of the crosses hanging on the walls.  
  
"Yes," Joshua confirms before shaking his head to clear it. "Anyways. I summoned you to ask for advice."  
  
Debby waits patiently.  
  
"Should I tell him?" Joshua asks. "Who I am, who he is?"  
  
"Why shouldn't you?" Debby says. "And why should you?"  
  
"I shouldn't because he might hate me," Joshua says. "I should because this cycle... it might stop this cycle."  
  
Debby looks at him, expression giving away nothing. "And do you want him to live in ignorance a little longer, or would you prefer for this cycle to maybe stop?"  
  
"Uh," Joshua says. "Is this a trick question?"  
  
"Choose what you feel is right, Joshua," Debby says, touching his forehead before vanishing.  
  
  
  
  
  _Joshua grunts, sharp claws digging into Ethan's back and forcing him closer. Ethan pants into Joshua's mouth, long canines dragging against his lips. Joshua hisses and snaps his teeth, catching them on Ethan's tongue._  
  
 _Ethan growls, shoving Joshua down and straddling his hips. He claws at Joshua's shirt, and Joshua lets him tear it away from his body. Ethan pulls his own shirt off before unceremoniously ripping Joshua's pants and boxers off in one tug._  
  
 _Joshua mewls into Ethan's skin, and Ethan makes a rumbling noise, low in his chest. He cards his claws through Joshua's hair. Joshua purrs, wrapping his legs around Ethan's waist and grabbing Ethan's horns, pressing their lips together._  
  
 _Ethan grips Joshua's thighs, spreading them apart. Joshua whimpers, grinding his hips up against Ethan's. Ethan growls, shoving Joshua's hips back down._  
  
 _The dirt is digging into Joshua's back, the smell of blood and sweat is in the air, and Joshua has never felt more-_  
  
Joshua's eyes shoot open, and he feels his stomach lurch. He stumbles out of his bed and into the bathroom before vomiting.  
  
He feels disgusting.  
  
He retches into the toilet, stomach churning as he remembers how he whined and whimpered as Ethan shoved his way into him. He can't believe he did that. He shouldn't have fallen victim to the blood, he should have been _better_ than that...  
  
Joshua jumps when he feels a hand on his back.  
  
"It's just me," Tyler's voice tells him, and Joshua relaxes, resting his head on the brim on the toilet seat.  
  
"Tyler, I-" Joshua takes a deep breath before looking up at Tyler. "I have something to tell you."  
  
"Yeah?" Tyler asks. He takes another look at Joshua. "Do you want to lie down?"  
  
"No, I'm fine." Joshua runs a hand through his hair. "Do you, um, remember that dream you told me about? Where I killed Ethan?"  
  
"Yeah," Tyler says slowly.  
  
"That, um." Joshua takes another breath. "That wasn't a dream."  
  
And with that, he phases.  
  
  
  
Joshua's demonized human form isn't too different from his human one, but that's what makes it all the more wrong.  
  
His eyes are completely black, whites and all. Fangs slide out of his lips and down his chin. If he still had his wings, they'd appear too.  
  
At first glance, Joshua doesn't look wrong at all.  
  
But at second glance, he's an abomination.  
  
  
  
Tyler stares at him.  
  
"Josh?" he says softly. "What- what are you?"  
  
"I'm a demon, Tyler," Joshua says quietly. "I'm a demon."  
  
Tyler remains expressionless for a moment before his face grows frightened, and he stands up and steps back slowly.  
  
"Tyler, please," Joshua says, moving forward. Tyler scrambles back, eyes widening.  
  
"What- what's happening?" he asks, glancing around frantically. "Am I dreaming or- or am I drugged?"  
  
Joshua shakes his head slowly. "No, Tyler," he says softly. "This is real." He lets his eyes slowly fade back. "This is real."  
  
"N-no," Tyler says. "No! You can't be!"  
  
"I am," Joshua says gently.  
  
"No!" Tyler insists. "You- you're Josh! You go to church! You're a Christian, you believe in God, you- you- _no!"_  
  
"I'm sorry, Tyler," Joshua says. "I'm a demon." He pauses. "We- we met centuries ago. Eons ago."  
  
Tyler stares at him. "W- _what?"_  
  
"Talia. You're Talia," Joshua says, stepping closer. This time, Tyler doesn't step back. "And I'm Jephtah. Why don't you remember me?"  
  
"Look, I don't know who you think I am," Tyler says, slowly backing away. "But I'm Tyler, remember? I'm twenty-five years old. Not centuries."  
  
"You reincarnate," Joshua explains. "You've reincarnated at least twelve times."  
  
"What are you _talking_ about? Josh, this isn't funny-"  
  
"I'm not joking," Joshua interrupts. "I'm not joking, Tyler. Just..." He shrugs, shifting back into his human form. "I'm going to back to bed."  
  
  
  
  
Tyler interacts minimally with Joshua over the next couple of days, and Joshua is glad that Tyler isn't afraid of him, right up until when he wakes up to find Tyler pressing a wooden cross into his bare chest.  
  
"Give me Josh!" Tyler screams.  
  
"Tyler, please, you're hurting me," Joshua begs.  
  
Tyler hesitates, and Joshua sighs in relief when he lifts the cross from Josh's chest.  
  
"Who are you?" Tyler growls.  
  
"Josh," he says earnestly. "Tyler, it's me. It's _me._ Josh. You _know_ it's me."  
  
"Josh isn't a- a- a _demon,"_ Tyler spits.  
  
"Tyler," Joshua says, raising shaky hands to hesitantly cup Tyler's cheeks. He's relieved when Tyler doesn't pull away.  
  
Or press the cross back against his chest.  
  
"Tyler," Joshua says hoarsely. "It's me. It's Josh. And- and yes, I'm a demon."  
  
Tyler moves to press the cross back against Joshua's chest, but Joshua manages to grab a hold of Tyler's wrist.  
  
"Please don't hurt me," Joshua whispers.  
  
"You're a demon!" Tyler yelps.  
  
"Tyler, Tyler," Joshua says urgently, reaching out to touch Tyler's face, and he's hurt, but not surprised when Tyler pulls back. "I'd never hurt you. _Never."_  
  
"I can't trust you," Tyler murmurs. "How could I possibly trust you?"  
  
"Because I love you," Joshua says. "Because you're Talia."  
  
This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.  
  
"WHO'S TALIA?!" Tyler shrieks.  
  
"Talia!" Joshua says frantically, clutching Tyler's wrists. "Talia, it's Jephtah. It's Jephtah. Please!"  
  
"Who's Talia?!" Tyler demands. "Who's Jephtah?"  
  
"You're Talia," Joshua tells him.  
  
"I'm Tyler!"  
  
"You're Talia," Joshua says. "And you're Tatyana, and Thea, and Tegan, and Tuana, and Tayler, and Tara, and Tess, and Tae Jung, and Thiare, and Taryn and- and Tyra, oh, Lord, _Tyra-"_  
  
"JOSH!" Tyler yells. "Oh, Josh, can you hear me?"  
  
"I'm Josh," he says. "Oh, Tal-Tyler, I'm Josh. _Josh._ This isn't _my_ body, Tyler. But I've been in it for over twenty-five years."  
  
Tyler stares at him, wild-eyed.  
  
"How _old_ are you?" he breathes.  
  
Joshua swallows hard. "Seventy-two."  
  
"Really."  
  
"Seventy-two hundred," Joshua clarifies. "I'm 7239 years old."  
  
Tyler moves to push the cross back against his skin, and Joshua holds both his wrists firmly.  
  
"Please don't make me hurt you, Tyler," Joshua whispers. "That would hurt me."  
  
"Josh," Tyler says thickly. "Oh, gosh, are you still in there?"  
  
Joshua chokes on a sob. This _wasn't_ supposed to happen.  
  
"Tyler..." he whispers.  
  
"You- you're crying," Tyler says. "Why are you crying?"  
  
"Because I'm in love with you," Joshua whispers. "And because you hate me now."  
  
  
  
  
"I really am Josh," he says as he sits down next to Tyler on the roof.  
  
"How can you prove it?" Tyler asks.  
  
"Do you want to ask me something only Josh would know?" Joshua asks dryly.  
  
"Don't you have all his memories? Since you're in his body?"  
  
"I killed him the moment I entered his body. I don't have his memories," Joshua says easily. Tyler turns to him with wide eyes. "Besides, he wasn't even a year old when I killed him. It doesn't really matter."  
  
"Are you trying to make me feel better?" Tyler asks incredulously.  
  
Joshua snorts. "No. I'm trying to convince you that I've always been the man you knew."  
  
"How do I know if you're just trying to steal my soul or not?"  
  
"I don't want your soul."  
  
"Then what do you want, then?" Tyler demands.  
  
"I want..." Joshua stops. "I want you to believe me. I want you to love me. Like you did before."  
  
Tyler sighs, looking back up at the sky. "You're just a demon looking for a little love, huh?"  
  
"Well, yes," Joshua says, confused by Tyler's mocking tone of voice.  
  
Tyler chuckles dryly, shaking his head.  
  
"Tyler, look," Joshua says desperately, pointing to the sky. "That's Orion. Does that mean anything to you?"  
  
Tyler follows his finger before looking back at him. He opens his mouth to say something before stopping, eyes clouding. "Fool," he says.  
  
Joshua has never been so happy. "Kesîl, yes," he says, elated.  
  
Tyler blinks at him. "Why do you look so happy?"  
  
"You said, 'Fool,'" Joshua says.  
  
"Okay," Tyler says slowly.  
  
"Kesîl, Tyler," Joshua says urgently. "That was your favorite constellation."  
  
Tyler looks at him, bewildered. "Josh, I don't..." He pauses. "W- Jephtah?"  
  
Joshua kisses him, and Tyler kisses back.  
  
  
  
"I remember being in love with you," Tyler tells him. "That all I remember."  
  
 _Probably for the best._  
  
"That's something," Joshua says brightly as he bustles around the kitchen.  
  
"So you really are a demon?" Tyler asks hesitantly.  
  
Joshua pauses. "You could say that, yes."  
  
Tyler opens his mouth, looking confused, but seems to decide against it.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Wait, wait," Tyler says, holding a hand up. "You were a girl?"  
  
Joshua nods. They're in the middle of him explaining their past lives, and each one seems to confuse Tyler more and more.  
  
"And you were okay with that?"  
  
Joshua shrugs. "I'm genderless. And sexless, actually. In my natural form."  
  
"If you're genderless," Tyler says, "why do you use masculine pronouns?"  
  
"This vessel is male," Joshua says. "Why would I use anything else?"  
  
"Because they're not _your_ pronouns," Tyler says. "Doesn't it make you feel... wrong?"  
  
Joshua shrugs. "I try not to think about it much, really."  
  
"Well, you can," Tyler says. "Use neutral pronouns, I mean."  
  
Joshua blinks. "I can?"  
  
Tyler nods. "Yeah. People can use all sorts of pronouns."  
  
"Oh." Joshua thinks about this for a moment. "'They' pronouns would be nice, actually. That's the closest word to the pronoun I would use for myself."  
  
Tyler nods. "Okay, then."  
  
  
  
  
"Why did you ask for Ethan's name?" Tyler asks the morning they're moving their things out from the church. "I mean, didn't you know it already? It's Ethan."  
  
"Oh, um," Joshua says, "I didn't know his real name. We all have real names."  
  
"What's your name, then?" Tyler asks.  
  
Joshua steps back, eyes widening.  
  
Tyler blinks. "Did I- am I not allowed to ask that?"  
  
"You- well, people just don't ask that," Joshua explains. "You only ask if you're planning on killing the other person."  
  
Tyler raises an eyebrow. "Oh," he says. "Well, um. Don't worry about that."  
  
Joshua laughs.  
  
They're happy.  
  
  
  
  
"Is that what you were doing that one time?" Tyler asks as he runs his fingers over Joshua's back. "Did they... hurt?"  
  
Joshua swallows. "Yeah." They sigh, turning around to face Tyler. "They hurt a lot, sometimes."  
  
"I'm sorry," Tyler whispers.  
  
Joshua smiles slightly, kissing him. "It's all right," they tell him. "It's not your fault."  
  
"Could you, um, show me?" Tyler asks.  
  
Joshua furrows their eyebrows. "Show you what?"  
  
"Your... your demon form."  
  
Joshua blinks. "You- you want me to show you my demon form?" Tyler nods. "Why on Earth do you want me to do that?"  
  
Tyler shrugs. "I'm curious."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because it's disgusting, Tyler."  
  
"Why did you show me that one time, then?"  
  
"So you would believe me."  
  
Tyler sighs. "You know I love you, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Joshua says, uncertain of where this is going.  
  
"I will love you," Tyler says, "no matter what you look like. I promise."  
  
"Tyler..."  
  
"I promise," Tyler repeats, and with a sigh, Joshua shifts.  
  
Tyler does flinch at first, but recovers quickly.  
  
"It's my eyes," Joshua says miserably. "They're the worst part.  
  
"They're beautiful," Tyler says softly, stepping forward and running his thumb along Joshua's cheekbone.  
  
Joshua recoils. "How- how could you say that?"  
  
 _"You're_ beautiful," Tyler says, looking into Joshua's eyes. "It only makes sense that all of you would be. And your eyes, J, they're a part of you. And they're beautiful."  
  
  
  
  
"Tattoos."  
  
Joshua looks up. "What about them?"  
  
"What about, um, wing tattoos?" Tyler asks hesitantly. "Do you think that would help at all?"  
  
Joshua pauses, thinking about it. "It- it might," he says.  
  
"Can you draw them, or..."  
  
"I have drawings of them," Joshua says, remembering Ethan's sketches.  
  
"Do you want to do this? Do you want me to set up an appointment?" Tyler offers.  
  
"Yeah, yeah that would... yeah," Joshua says, feeling a smile slowly spread across their lips.  
  
  
  
  
"What do you think?" Tyler asks as he watches Joshua examine their tattoos in the mirror. They're a pale color, just slightly lighter than their skin. It's like it's a part of them, not just a permanent drawing on their back.  
  
"They're perfect," Joshua says, turning to their boyfriend and kissing him.  
  
  
  
  
Tyler smiles as he puts the finishing touches on Joshua's nails.  
  
"There," he says, blowing on Joshua's now shiny, pale pink nails.  
  
Joshua pulls their hands back and examines their nails. "Thank you," they whisper.  
  
"Anytime," Tyler says, leaning in and kissing their cheek. "Now," he says, pulling back and pulling out a bottle of electric green polish, "will you do mine?"  
  
Joshua smiles bemusedly at him. "What, really?"  
  
"Yes, really," Tyler tells them. "Why not?"  
  
"You don't have to... I don't know, go along with this," Joshua tells him.  
  
"I'm not 'going along with this,'" Tyler says, looking a little indignant. "I just want my nails to be bright green to match your alien mask. Just like how your nails now match my flower robe."  
  
Joshua grins at him as they unscrew the cap to the bottle of nail polish. "All right, all right," they consent, taking Tyler's hand.  
  
  
  
  
"You can talk to cats?" Tyler asks, disbelieving.  
  
Joshua nods. "I have a cat form, too."  
  
Tyler stares at them. "You're joking."  
  
"I'm not joking," Joshua says, shifting.  
  
Tyler bursts out laughing.  
  
"Hey!" Joshua yelps, indignant.  
  
"Nothing, it's just-" Tyler cuts himself off to giggle some more, "kind of ridiculous, you know? You're this big, bad demon who is also a cat."  
  
Joshua scowls. "Ethan was a goat," they mutter, and is pleased when Tyler laughs at that too.  
  
  
  
  
Tyler grins at Joshua as they walk out in a flowing, golden skirt.  
  
"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" Joshua asks worriedly as they examine themself in front of the mirror in their dressing room.  
  
"Why wouldn't it be?" Tyler asks, leaning in and adjusting Joshua's shirt.  
  
"I wasn't aware that people with male bodies wearing skirts was socially acceptable."  
  
"Damn socially acceptable," Tyler says firmly, and Joshua laughs.  
  
It might not have been socially acceptable, and maybe it was a little nerve-wracking to do a backflip in a skirt, but Joshua felt _happy._  
  
  
  
  
It does occur to Joshua that this can't last forever. Of course it can't. They're both in mortal bodies, and mortals can't last forever. Their bodies can't, at least.  
  
He doesn't think about that, though, right up until the moment he has to.  
  
  
  
  
"Tyler, oh my Lord," Joshua gasps, dropping to their knees beside their boyfriend, who they've just pulled out of a burning car that crashed into the side of a bridge.  
  
"It was an accident, I swear," Tyler says, choking a little on his own blood.  
  
"Where's my phone, where's my phone?" Joshua mutters frantically to themself, patting their pockets. He looks around, searching for someone to help them, but there isn't a soul in sight.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Tyler says, reaching out and touching Joshua's arm. "It doesn't matter, J."  
  
"Why the fuck doesn't it matter?" Joshua demands, voice harsher than they intended it to be.  
  
"I'm going to die," Tyler says softly. "There's nothing anyone can do. I-" he coughs, "I just want to spend these last moments with you."  
  
Joshua swipes viciously at a tear that's running down their cheek. "You can't know that, Tyler, how could you possibly-"  
  
"I just do," Tyler says, and his voice is so authoritative that Joshua has to stop.  
  
They believe him.  
  
"Tyler..." Joshua whispers.  
  
"It's all right, J," Tyler assures them. "You're an angel."  
  
"What? No, Tyler, I'm not an angel, I'm a demon-"  
  
"You're an angel," Tyler says confidently. "You said so. You were an angel who took Jephtah's body in order to guard Tyre."  
  
"And then I killed someone, and I was stripped of my wings and turned into a demon," Joshua says, running their thumb over Tyler's cheek. "I'm not an angel, Tyler."  
  
"But you aren't a demon either," Tyler whispers. "You love me."  
  
"Tyler-" Joshua says, choking on a sob. "Tyler, I- I'm so sorry."  
  
"Why are you sorry, Josh?" Tyler asks softly.  
  
"I'm not going to go to Heaven," Joshua tells him. "I'm not. I'm never going to see you again. And I'm so, so sorry."  
  
Tyler just shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. You'll go to Heaven."  
  
"No, I'm not. I'm sorry, Tyler, I'm _sorry,"_ Joshua begs.  
  
Tyler wipes away a tear and smiles weakly. "You're an angel, Josh. Don't worry."  
  
Joshua shakes their head. "I'm not, Tyler, I'm _not."_  
  
Tyler reaches up and touches Joshua's cheek. "You're an angel."  
  
"I'm not, I'm _not-"_  
  
"Shh," Tyler says, shaking his head. "Goodbye, Josh."  
  
"No, wait, Tyler! TYLER!"  
  
Tyler closes his eyes, and suddenly...  
  
He opens them.  
  
"Jordan?" he asks.  
  
"T-Tyra?" Jordan asks hesitantly.  
  
"Hey, Dan," she murmurs. "I missed you, you know."  
  
"Tyra, I love you," Jordan blurts desperately.  
  
Tyra grins at them. "I know." Suddenly, something seems to change in her eyes, and then-  
  
"Jackson?"  
  
 _"Taryn,"_ Jackson breathes.  
  
"Hey, man," she whispers. "What's up?"  
  
"Oh, not much," they reply. "What about you?"  
  
"The usual," she says, attempting a smile.  
  
They go through Thiare, Tae Jung, Tess, Tara, Taylor, Tuana, Tegan, Thea, and Tatyana. Joaquin, Jae-Hwa, Julian, Jonathan, James, Isa, Jeston, Josef, and Jermija.  
  
"Jephtah?" she whispers.  
  
"Talia," they breathe.  
  
"Why are you crying?" she asks, starting to reach up to touch their face, but her hand begins to shake and she stops. "Jephtah, I- I'm so cold."  
  
"Talia," Jephtah whispers. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's fine, love," she whispers. "Everything will be okay."  
  
Jephtah is really crying now.  
  
"Why are you crying?" Talia asks again.  
  
"Because I'm afraid I will never see you again," they murmur.  
  
"Why?" she asks softly. "Because I'm dying?"  
  
"Because you'll go to heaven," Jephtah says. "Because I never will."  
  
"You're an angel, Jephtah," Talia says gently. "Of course you will go to heaven."  
  
"I'm not an angel," Jephtah says, tears streaming down their cheeks. "I- I'm _not."_  
  
"You are," Talia says, softly yet firmly. "You're an angel. You're an angel, Jephtah, and I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," Jephtah gasps out. "I love you so, so much."  
  
"I love you," Talia whispers. "Be not afraid. You're an angel."  
  
"Talia," Jephtah begs.  
  
"You're an angel," Talia murmurs, closing her eyes.  
  
"Talia?" Jephtah asks. She doesn't move. "Talia? Talia!" They grab her hand, fumbling for a pulse.  
  
There isn't one.  
  
"Oh, Lord," Jephtah murmurs. "Talia."  
  
She doesn't move.  
  
"Tanya?" they try. "Thea? Tegan?"  
  
She doesn't move.  
  
"Tuana!" they shouts. "Taylor! _Please!"_  
  
She remains perfectly still.  
  
"Tara! Tess! Thiare!" they beg. "Taryn! Tyra! Wake up, please!"  
  
She doesn't move. She doesn't breathe.  
  
"Tyler?" Joshua whispers. "Tyler. Please."  
  
He doesn't move.  
  
Joshua is starting to sob when they sense someone standing behind them. They stand up, whirling around and dropping into a defensive position, teeth bared.  
  
"It's just me," Debby says, spreading out her hands in front of her. "Just me."  
  
Joshua drops to their knees, the fight drained out of them.  
  
"Kill me," they whisper.  
  
"Josh..."  
  
"Kill me," they repeat, looking up to meet Debby's eyes. "Please."  
  
Debby sighs, kneeling down in front of them.  
  
"I can't, Joshua," she murmurs. "You know that."  
  
"Please," Joshua repeats. "I know I won't go back to heaven, I know I'll never see her again, so that's why you have to kill me. I can't live without her. Kill me, _please."_  
  
"You want to go back to Hell?" Debby asks, furrowing her eyebrows.  
  
"No, Debby," Joshua says softly. "I want you to _end_ me."  
  
Debby's face crumples. "Josh," she says softly, slowly reaching for Joshua's hand. "You know I can't do that."  
  
"You have to," Joshua begs. "Please, Debby, end me. I don't want life. I don't want _existence."_  
  
"I can't."  
  
"I'm a _demon,"_ Joshua says. "I- I'm never going to make it back to Heaven. I've _killed_ people, Debby! How do you think I got this vessel? I _killed_ Joshua Dun for his body! I took his name! I've done that _thirteen times._ It's some sick, twisted game. I'm a puppeteer, and my puppets are _corpses._ I've lived in thirteen bodies, but not _one_ of them were alive." They take a deep, shudders breath. "I'm not going to Heaven. I'm never going to see her again. So end me. _Please."_  
  
"I can't, Joshua."  
  
"You _have_ to."  
  
"I _can't."_  
  
"YOU HAVE TO!" Joshua explodes. "I don't want to exist anymore! Kill me like I killed Eauvoumach, end me! END ME!"  
  
"NO!"  
  
Joshua sits back, startled by Debby's outburst.  
  
"No," she repeats, albeit quieter this time. "No, Josh, I will not kill you."  
  
"Why?" they whisper.  
  
"You haven't served your penance yet."  
  
Joshua stares at her. "What are you talking about?" they demand. "What have I been doing?"  
  
"This was not your penance, Joshua," Debby says softly. "This was Talia's. For killing herself. You were just a player in it."  
  
Joshua stares at her. "What- what are you _talking_ about?"  
  
"She was sentenced to repeat her life twelve times before going to Heaven," Debby explains. "You were only part of it because you were a part of it in the beginning."  
  
Joshua doesn't know what to think. "I... I was _used."_  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How could you let that happen?" Joshua demands, lashing out with a punch that she easily avoids. "How _could_ you?"  
  
Debby's face goes ugly. "This was not my decision, Joshua. Don't you dare blame me. I was the one who tried to _help_ you along. And for what? You fell in love with a demon."  
  
"I was never in love with him."  
  
Debby ignores him. "And Ethan, that pitiful creature. A demon, supposedly incapable of love, managed to feel something for you. And you _killed_ him. You _ended_ him without a second thought. Don't you dare lecture me about the evils of using someone, Joshua, because you wrangled information from him and ditched him the moment you had what you wanted."  
  
"I did not _use_ him, how dare you say-"  
  
"You wear his art upon your skin!" Debby snaps. "That was his way of showing affection for you, Joshua, and you took it and wore it like a shirt."  
  
Joshua squeezes their eyes shut. "Debby, _please."_  
  
Debby quiets. "You cannot be an angel anymore, Josh," she whispers. "You simply can't. You are _nothing."_  
  
Joshua takes a deep breath.  
  
"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "You don't belong anywhere anymore." She sighs. "You're banished to this plane, Joshua. Until the end of the Earth."  
  
 _"Debby."_  
  
"It wasn't my decision, Joshua," Debby says softly, and she looks genuinely sorry. "It's time to die now."  
  
"Okay," Joshua murmurs, and closes their eyes, cutting the ties between themselves and the vessel.  
  
They watch as Joshua Dun collapses next to Tyler's body. They sense a weight on their back, and look back.  
  
"Wings," they say in surprise.  
  
Debby smiles, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Yes, you have your wings back."  
  
They can't help the disbelieving laugh that tears its way out of their throat as they hesitantly give their wings a flutter. They're gray now, instead of their previous silver, and a bit rougher, but they're _theirs._  
  
"Until the end of Earth, Joshua. Not forever," Debby tells them. "Is there anything you'd like me to tell Talia?"  
  
"Tell her I love her," they say immediately. "That I'll be back. Tell them... tell her to be not afraid."  
  
Debby nods. "Okay."  
  
"She doesn't even know my name," they say softly, looking down at Tyler Joseph's body.  
  
"She will," Debby tells them. "I promise." She looks him over with a sigh. "Farewell, Jephtah."  
  
"Farewell, Dabria," Jos- Jeph- no, Jeruzauduhl says as they watch her shift into her angelic form. She waves before taking flight.  
  
Jeruzauduhl looks to the bodies on the floor before looking at the sky. They climb up and perch on the edge of the bridge, looking down at the water.  
  
"I'll see you soon," Jeruzauduhl says, pivoting to talk to Tyler's body. "I love you." They think about blowing a kiss, but decides against it. "Soon," they say as they turn back to the open air.  
  
They look up at the sky. "I'm sorry, Ethan," they murmur. "I'm so, so sorry."  
  
They spread their wings.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to odetosleep for being my beta and also just generally lovely. Also a thank you to onetoomanycats for also being lovely. 
> 
> If anyone is interested in making a podfic of this, hit me up for pronunciations.
> 
> I left room for a sequel. Anyone want a sequel?


End file.
